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https://archive.org/details/twentyofplaysofs04shak
TWENTY
O F T H E
PLAYS
OF
S H A KES PEAR E,
Being the whole Number printed in Quarto
During his Life-time, or before the Restoration,
Collated where there were different Copies,
AND
Publifh’d from the ORIGINALS,
s r
GEORGE STEEVENS, Efq*,
ire jubeo, ut ea a fontibus potius hauriant, quam rivulos
confedentur. Qwse autem nemo adhuc docuerat, nec erat
' unde ftudiofi fcire polTent, ea, quaiiLum potui, feci, ut eifent
nota noilris. ' Ciceronis Acad. Lib. L
V O L. IV.
. L O N D O N :
Fruited for J. and R. Tonson, in the Strand\ T. Payne,
at the Me’Wi-gatej CaJlIe-Jireet \ and W. RichaRDSON,
in I'leet -fired*
M.DCC.LXVI.
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I
T n E
PLAYS
O F
SHAKESPEARE.
VOLUME ihc FOURTH.
C O N T A I N I N.G,
The mofl: excellent Tragedie of Romeo and
luLIET “ — —
The moft lamentable Tragedie of Romeo and
luLIET — — — —
The Tragedy of Hamlet Prince of Denmarkc i5i i
1622
Shakespeares Sonnets and Louers Complaint 1609
'The Htfiory of King heir and his three Daughters i ^05
The Tragedy of Othello, the Moore of Ve-
} 1597
i 1609
An Excellent Conceited
TRAGEDIE,
O F
ROMEO and lULIET.
As it hath been often (with great applaufe) plaid piibliquely.
By the Right Honourable the L. of Hunsdon
his Seruants.
LONDON.
Printed by Iohn Dantsr, i597«.- '
This is the firft Edition of Romeo and Juliet
before it received the Alterations and Im-
provements to be found in the Copy that
follov^-s.
THE
PROLOGUE.
WO houfhold frends alike in dignitie,
(In faire Veronay where we lay our Scene)
From ciuill broyles broke into enmitie,
Whofe ciuill warre makes ciuill hands vncleane.
From forth the fatall loynes of thefe two foes,
A paire of ftarre-eroft louers tooke their life :
Whofe mifaduentures, piteous ouerthrowes,
(Through the continuing of their fathers ftrife,
And death-markt palTage of their parents rage)
Is now the two howres trafEque of our ftage.
The which if you with patient eares attend.
What here we want wee’l flu die to ^end.
A2
The Mofl Excellent
T R A G E D I E
O F
ROMEOand lULIET.
Enter 2. feruing-men of the Capolets.
Greg OR IE, of my word He carrie no coales.
2 No, for if you doo, you fhould be a collier.
1 If I be in choler, He draw.
2 Euer while you liue, draw your necke out
of the the collar.
I I ftrikc quickly being moou’d.
2 I, but you are not quickly mou’d to Hrike.
I Dog of the houfe of the Mountagues moues me.
2 To mooue is to ftirre, and to bee valiant is to Hand
to it : therefore (of my word) if thou be mooud thou’t runne
away.
I There’s not a man of them I meete, but He take the '
wall of.
2 That ftiewes thee a weakling, for the weakeft goes to
the wall.
I Thats true, therefore He thruft the men from the wall,
and thruft the maids to to the walls : nay, thou fhalt fee I am
a tall peece of flelh.
2 Tis well thou art not fifh, for if thou wert thou wouldR
be but poore lohn.
The most excellent Tragedie
1 He play the tyrant, He firll begin with the maids, and
ofF with their heads.
2 The heads of the maids ?
1 I the hcades of their maides, or the maidenheades, take it
in what fence thou wilt.
2 Nay let them take It In fence that feele it, but heere
comes two of the Mount ague s .
Enter two feruingmen of the Monntagues.
1 Nay feare not me I warrant thee.
2 I feare them no more than thee, but draw.
1 Nay let vs haue the law on our fide, let them begin firfl.
He tell thee what He doo, as I goe by He bite my thumbe,^
which is difgrace enough if they fuffer it.
2 Content, goe thou by and bite thy thumbe, and He
come after and frowne.
I Moun. Doo you bite your thumbe at vs ? .
1 I bite my thumbe.
2 Moun, I but i’fl at vs ?
1 I bite my thumbe, is the law on our fide ?
2 No.
1 I bite my thumbe.
1 Moun, I but i’H at vs ?
Enter Beneuolio.
2 Say I, he're comes my mailers kinfman.
They draw, to them 'enters Tybalt, they fight, to them the
Prince, old Mountague, and his wife, old Capulet and his
wife, and other citizens and. part them.
Prince, Rebellious Tubiedls enemies to peace,
On paine of torture, from thofe bloody handes
Throw your miftempered weapons to the ground.
Three ciuell brawles bred of an airie word,
By
OF Romeo and Iuliet.'
By the old Capulet and Mountague^
Haue thrice difturbd the quiet of' our flreets.
If euer you diflurbe our ftreets againe,
Your hues fhall pay the ranfome of your fault;
For this time euery man depart iu peace.
Come Capulet come you along with me.
And Mountague, come you this afternoone,
To know our farther pleafure in this cafe.
To old free towne our common iudgement place.
Once more on paine of death each man depart. Exeunt,
M, Who fet this auncient quarrel firft abroach ?
Speake nephew, were you by when it began?
Benuo, Here were the feruants of your aduerfaries.
And yours clofe fighting ere I did approch.
JVife, Ah where is Romeo, faw you him to day ?
Right glad I am he was not at this fray.
Ben. Madame, an houre before the worihipt funne
Peept through the golden window of the.eafl,
A troubled thought drew me from companie :
Where vnderneath the groue ficamoure
That weflward rooteth from the cities hde,
So early walking might I fee your fonne.
I drew towards him, but he was ware of me.
And drew into the thicket of the wood ;
I noting his affeftions by mine owne, ,
That moft are bufied when th’ are mofl alone,
Purfued my honor, not purfuing his.
Moun. Black and portentious mufl this honor proue,
VnleflTe good counfaile doo the caufe remooue,
Ben. Why tell me Vncle do you know the caufe ?
' Enter Romeo.
Bloun. I neyther know it nor can learne of him.
Ben. See where he is, but ffand you both afidc.
He know his grieuance, or be much denied.
^ 4
Mount.
The most excellent Tragedie
Mount, I would thou wert fo happie by thy flay
To heare true fhrift. Come madame lets away,
Bemio, Good morrow cofen.
Romeo. Is the day fo young ?
Ben. But new'flroke nine.
Romeo. Ay me, fad hopes feeme long.
Was that my father that went hence fo fall ?
Ben. It was, what forrow lengthens Romeos hours ?
Romeo. Not hauing that, which hauing makes them Ihort.
Ren* In loue.
Romeo. Out.
Ben. Of loue.
Ro. Out of her fauour where I am in loue.
Ben. Alas that loue fo gentle in her view.
Should be fo tyrranous and rough in proofe.
Ro. Alas that loue whofe view is muffled Bill,
Should without lawes glue path-waies to our will :
Where fhall we dine ? Gods me, what fray was here \
Yet tell me not for I haue heard it all,
Heres much to doe with hate, but more with loue.
Why then, O brawling loue, O louing hate,
O anie thing, of nothing firfl create !
O heauie lightnes ferious vanitie !
Mifflapen Caos of beft feeming thinges,
Feather of lead, bright fmoke, cold fire, fickc health,
Still waking fleepe, that is not what it is :
This loue feele I, which feele no loue in this.
Doeft thou not laugh ?
Ren. No cofe I rather weepe.
Rom. Good hart at what ?
Ben. At thy good hearts oppreffion.
Ro. Why fuch is loues tranfgreffion,
Griefes of mine owne lie heauie at my hart.
Which thou wouIdB propagate to haue them prcB
With
OF Romeo and Iuliet.’
With more of thine, this griefe that thou haft ftiownc,
Doth ad more griefe to too much of mine owne.
Loue is a fmoke raifde with the fume of fighes
Being purgde, a fire fparkiing in louers eyes :
Being vext, a fea raging with a louers tears.
What is it elfe ? A madnes moft difcreet,
A choking gall, and a preferuing fweet. Farewell cofc, .
Ben. Nay He goe along.
And if you hinder me you doo me wrong.
Ro. Tut I haue loft my felfe I am not here.
This is not Rotneoy hee’s fome other where.
Ben. Tell me in fadnes whome fhe is you loue ?
Ro. What (hall I grone and tell thee ?
Ben. Why no, but fadly tell me who.
Ro. Bid a fickman in fadnefs make his will.
Ah word ill vrgde to one that is fo ill.
In fadnes cofen I doo ioue a woman. ^
Ben. I aimde fo right, when as you faid you lou’d.
Ro. A right good mark-man, and ftiee’s faire I loue.
Ben, A right faire marke faire cofe is fooneft hit.
Ro. But in that hit you miffe, ftiee’le not be hit
With Cupids arrow, ftiee hath Dianaes wit.
And in ftrong proofe of chaftitle well arm’d 5
Gainft Cupids childifh bow ftie Hues vnharm’d,
Shee’le not abide the Hedge of louing tearmes.
Nor ope her lap to faint fedudng gold,
Ah fhe is rich in beau tie, only poore.
That when fhe dies with beautie dies her ftorc. Exeu,
Enter Coimtie Paris, old Capulet.
Of honorable reckoning are they both.
And pittie tis they Hue at ods fo long: f
But leaning that, w'hat fay you to my ftite ?
The most excellent Tragedie
Capu. What fliould I fay more than I faid before.
My daughter is a Granger in the world,
Shee hath not yet attainde to fourteene yeares ;
Let two more fommers wither in their pride,
Before file can be thought fit for a bride.
Paris, Younger than fhe are happie mothers made.
Cap. But too foone marde are thefe fo early marled :
But wooe her gentle PariSy get her heart.
My word to her confent is but a part.
This night I hold an old accuflom’d feafl:,
Whereto I haue inuited many a gueft,
Such as I loue : yet you among the flore.
One more mofl welcome makes the number more.
At my poore houfe you fhall behold this night,
Earth treadding flars, that make darke heaucn light :
Such comfort as doo luAy youngmen feele.
When well apparaild Aprill on the heele
Of lumping winter treads, euen fuch delights
Arnongfl frefh female buds fhall you this night
Inherit at my houfe, heare all, all fee.
And like her moft, whofe merite moil dial be.
Such amongfl: view of many mync beeing one.
May Band in number though in reckoning none.
Enter Seruingmen.
Where are you firra, goe trudge about
Through faire Verona flreets, and feeke them out :
Whofe names are written here and to them fay.
My houfe and welcome at their pleafure flay. Exeunt.
Ser. Seeke them out whofe names are written here, and
yet I knowe not who are written here : I mud to the learned
to learne of them, that’s as much to fay, the .taylor mud
meddle with his lafle, the fhoomaker with his needle, the
painter
OF Romeo and Iuliet.
painter with his nets, and the fiflier with his penfill, I miifl
to the learned.
Enter Benuolio and Romeo.
Ben, Tut man one fire burnes out anothers burning,
One paine is lefTned with anothers anguifh:
Turne backward, and be holp with backward turning,
One defperate griefe cures with anothers languifh.
Take thou fome new infe<ffion to thy eye.
And the ranke poyfon of the old will die.
Romeo. Your planfon leafe is excellent for that.
Ben. For what ?
Romeo. For your broken fhin.
Ben. Why Romeo art thou mad ?
Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a mad man is.
Shut vp in prifon, kept without my foode,
Whipt and tormented, and godden good fellow.
Ser. Godgigoden, I pray fir can you read,
Rom. I mine owne fortune in my miferie.
Ser. Perhaps you haue -learned it without booke :
but I pray can you read any thing you fee
Rom. I if I know the letters and the language.
Bern. Yee fay honeftly, reft you merrie.
Rom. Stay felbw I can read.
He reads the letter.
Seigneur Martino and his vjife and daughters y countie An-
felme and his beauteous ftfterSy the ladie luiddow Vtruuio,
feigneur Placentio, and his louelie neeces, Mercutio and his bro-
ther Valentine, mine vncle Capulet his unfe and daughterSy my
faire ?ieece Rofaline a?id Liuia, feigneur Valentio and his cofen
Tibalt, Lucio and the liuelie Hellena.
A faire aflembly, svhethcr (hould they come ?
Ser.
The most excellent Tragedie
Ser. Vp.
Ro, Whether to fupper ?
Ser. To our houfe.
Ro. Whofe houfe >
Sef^, My maAers.
Ro, Indeed I fhould haue askt thee that before.
Ser. Now Il’e tel you without asking. My maAer is the
great rich Capiilety and if you be not of the houfe of Moun-
t agues ^ I pray come and crufli a cup of wine. ReA you
merrie.
Ben. At this fame auncient feaA of CapuletSy
Sups the faire Rofaline whom thou fo loues : '
With all the admired beauties of Verona,
Goe thither and with vnattainted eye,
Compare her face with fome that I Aiall Aiew,
And I will make thee thinke thy fwan a crow,
Ro. W’^hen the deuout religion of mine eye
Maintaines fuch fallhood, then turne teares to fire.
And thefe who often drownde could neuer die,
Tranfparent heretiques be burnt for Tiers
One fairer than my loue, the all feeing fonne
Nere faw her match, fince fir A the world begun.
Ben. Tut you faw her faire none els being by.
Her feife poyfd with her felfe in either eye :
But in that criAall fcales let there be waide.
Your ladyes loue, again A fome other maide
That I will Aiew you Alining at this feaA,
And Aie Aiall fcant Aiew well that now feemes beA.
Rom. He goe along no fuch fight to be Aiowne,
But to reioyce in fplendor of mine owne.
Etiter
OF Romeo and Iuliet.
Enter Capulets •wife and Nuice.
Wife. Nurce wher’s my daughter call her forth to mee.
Nurce, Now by my maiden head at twelue yeare old I
bad her come, what lamb, what ladie bird, God forbid. Wher’s
this girle ? what Iuliet,
Enter Iuliet.
Juliet. How now who cals I
Nurce. Your mother.
lul. Madame I am here, what is your will ?
W. This is the matter. Nurfe giue leaue a while, we mufl
♦alke in fecret. Nurce come back again I haue remembrei
me, thou’fe heare our counfaile. Thou knoweft my daughters
of a prettie age.
Nurce. Faith I can tell her age unto an houro.
Wife. Shec’s not fourteene.
Nurce. He lay fourteene of my teeth, and yet to my teene
be it fpoken, I haue but foure, Ihee’s not fourteene. How
long is it now to Lammas-tide ?
Wife. A fortnight aad odde days.
Nurce. Euen or odde, of all dayes in the yeare come Lam-
mas eue at night fhall fhe be fourteene. Sufan and (he God reft
all chriftian foules were of an age. Well Sufan is* with God,
fhe was too good for me : But as I faid on Lammas eue at
night fhall fhe be fourteene, that fhall fhee marie I remember
it well. Tis fince the earth-quake nowe eleauen yeares, and
fhe was weand I neuer fhall forget it, of all the dales of the
yeare vpon that day : for I had then laid wormewood to my
dug, fitting in the fun vnder tlie doue-houfe wall. My lord
-and you were then at Mantua^ nay I do beare a braine : but
as I faid, when it did taft the wormwood on the nipple of
" jay dug, and felt it bitter, pretty foole to fee itjeachie and fall
out
The most excellent Tragedie
out With dugge. Shake quoth the doue-houfe twas no need
I trow to bid me trudge, and fince that time it is a leauen
yeare : for then could luliet flande high lone, nay by the
roode, fhee could haue wadled vp and downe, for euen the
day before fhee brake her brow, and then my hufband God
be with his foule, hee was a merrie man : doft thou fall for-*
ward luliet ? thou wilt fall backward when thou haft more
wit : wilt thou not luliet ? and by my hollidam, the pretty
foole left crying and faid I. To fee how a ieaft (hall come
about, I warrant you if I fhould Hue a hundred yeare, I ne-
uer Ihould forget it, wilt thou not luliet ? and by my troth
Ihe ftinted and cried I.
luliet. And ftint thou too, I prethee nurce fay I.
Nurce. Well goe thy waies, God marke thee for his grace,
thou wert the prettieft babe that euer I nurft, might I but
Hue to fee thee married once, I hauemywifh.'
Wife. And that fame marriage nurce, is the theame I meant
to talke of: tell me luliet y howe ftand you affected to be
married ?
ltd. It is an honor that I dreame not off.
Nurce. An honor ! were not I thy onely nurce, I would fay
thou hadft fuckt wifedome from thy teat.
V/ife. Well girle, the noble countie Paris feekes thee for his
wife.
Nurce. A man young ladic, ladle fuch a man as all the world,
v/hy he is a man of waxe.
Wife. Veronaes fummer hath not fuch a flower.
Nurce, Nay he is a flower, in faith a very flower.
Wife. Well luliet, how like you of Paris loue.
luliet. lie looke to like, if looking liking moue, '
But no more deepe will I engage mine eye,
Then your confent glues ftrength to make it flie.
Enter
OF Romeo and Iuliet;
Enter Clowae.
Clowne. Maddam you are cald for, fupper Is readie, the
nurce curft'in the pantrie, all thlnges in extreamitie, make
hafl for I muft be gone to waite.
Enter Majkers 'with Romeo and a Page*
Ro, What fhall this fpeech bee fpoke for our excufe ?
Or fliall we on without apologie.
Bemioleo, The date is out of fuch prolixitie,
Weele haue no Cupid hudwinckt with a fcarfe.
Bearing a Tartars painted bow of lath.
Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper :
Nor no without booke prologue faintly fpoke
After the prompter, for our entrance.
But let them meafure vs by what they will,
Weele meafure them a meafnre and be gone.
Rom, A torch for me I am not for this aumbling,
Beeing but heauie I will beare the light.
Mer, Beleeue me Romeo I mufl haue you daunce.
' Rom, Not I beleeue me you haue dancing Ihooes
With nimble foies, I haue a foule of lead
So flakes me to the ground I cannot flirre.
Mer, Giue me a cafe to put my vifage in,
A vifor for a vifor, what care I
What curious eye doth coate deformltie.
Rom, Giue me a torch, let wantons light of hart
Tickle the fenceles rufhes with their heeles :
For I am prouerbd with a grandfire phrafe.
He be a candleholder and looke on,
The game was nere fo faire and I am done.
Mer, Tut dun’s the moufe, the cunflable’s old word,
if thou beefl dun, weele draw thee from the mire
Of
The most excellent Tragedib
Of this furreuerence loue wherein thou flickft,
Leaue this talke, we burne day light here,
R7m. Nay thats not fo.
Mer, I meane fir in delay,
We burne our lights by night, like kmpes by day.
Take our good meaning for our iudgement fits
Three times a day, ere once in her right wits.
Rom, So we meane well by going to this mafkc :
But tis no wit to goe.
Mer. Why Romeo may one afke ?
Rom. I dreamt a dreame to night.
Mer. And fo did I,
Rom. Why what was yours ?
Mer. That dreamers often lie.
Rom. In bed afleepe while they doe dreame things true.
Mer. Ah then I fee queen Mab hath bin with you.
Ben. Queen Mah whats (he ?
She is the fairies midwife and doth come
In fiiape no bigger than an aggat Hone
On the forefinger of a burgomaller,
Drawne with a teeme of little atomi,
A thwart mens nofes when they lie afleepe.
Her waggon fpokes are made of fpinners webs.
The couer, of the winges of graflioppers.
The traces are the moone-lhine watrie beames.
The coilers crickets bones, the lalh of filmes,
Her waggoner is a final! gray coated flie
Not halfe fo big as is a little worme,
Pickt from the lafie finger of a maide.
And in this fort fhe gallops up and downe
Through louers braines, and then they dreame of louc.
O’re courtiers knees : who firait on curfies dreame
O’re ladies lips, who dreame on kifTes firait :
Which oft the angrie Mah with blifiers plagues.
Becaufe
OF Romeo and Iuliet*
Becaufe their breathes with fweet meats tainted are :
Sometimes (he gallops ore a lawers lap.
And then dreames he of fmelling out a fute.
And fometime comes Ihe with a tithe pigs taile.
Tickling a parfon’s nofe that lies afleepe,
And then dreames he of another benefice :
Sometimes (he gallops ore a fouldiers nofe.
And then dreames he of cutting forraine throats,
Of breaches ambufeados, countermines,
Of healthes fiue fadome deepe, and then anon
Drums in his eare : at which he ftartes and wakes,
And fweares a praier or two and fleepes againe.
This is that Mab that makes maids lie on their backes.
And proues them women of good cariage.
This is the verie Mab that plats the manes of horfes in the night,
And plats the Elfelocks in foule fluttifii haire,
Which once vntangled much misfortune breedes.
Rom, Peace, peace, thou talkll: of nothing.
Mer. True I talke of dreames.
Which areithe children of an idle braine,
Begot of nothing but vaine fantafie,
Which is as thinne a fubftance as the aire,
And more inconftant than the winde,
Which wooes euen now the frofe bowels of the north,
And being angred pufFes away in hafte.
Turning his face to the dew-dropping fouth.
Ben. Come, come, this winde doth blow vs from onriclues.
Supper is done and we fnall come too late.
Ro. I feare too carlie, for my minde mifgiues
Some confequence is hanging in the ftars.
Which bitterly begins his fearefull date
With this nights reuels, and expiers the terme
Of a difpifed life, clofde in this bread.
By foine vntimelie forfet of vile death.
VoL.IV. B
But
The most excellent Tragedie
But he that hath the Peerage of my courfe
Directs my falle, on luffie gentlemen.
Enter old Capulet with the ladies,
Capu. Welcome gentlemen, welcome gentlemen,
Ladies that haue their toes vnplagud with corns
Will haue about with you, ah ha my milfrefTes,
Which of you all will now refufe to dance ?
Shee that makes daintie, fhee He fweare hath corns.
Am I come neere you now, welcome gentlemen, welcome.
More lights you knaues, and turn thefe tables vp.
And quench the fire the roome is growne too hote. '
Ah firra, this vnlookt for fport comes well,
Nay fit, nay fit, good cofen Capulet :
For you and I are pafl our Handing dayes,
How long is it fince you and I were in a mafl^e ?
Cof. By ladie fir tis thirtie yeares at leaf!:.
Cap. Tis not fo much, tis not fo much.
Tis fince the mariage of Lucent io, •
Come Pentecojl as quicklie as it will.
Some fine and twentie yeares, and then we mafkt.
Cof. Tis more, tis more, his fonne is elder far.
Cap. Will you tell me that it cannot be fo.
His fonne was but a ward three yeares agoe.
Good youths I faith. Oh youth’s a iolly thing. -
Rom. What ladie is that that doth inrich the hand
Of yonder knight ? O fhee doth teach the torches to burne bright !
It feemes fhe hangs upon the cheeke of night.
Like a rich iewell in an Aeihiops eare.
Beau tie too rich for vfe, for earth too deare :
So fhines a fnow* white fwan trouping with crowes.
As this fair ladie ouer her fellowes fnowes.
The meafure done, lie watch her place of Hand,
And touching hers, make happle my rude hand.
Did
OF Romeo and Iuliet.
Did my heart loue till now ? Forfweare it fight,
I neuer faw true beautie till this night.
Tib. This by his voice fhould be a Mountague^
Fetch me my rapier boy. What dares the flaue
Come hither couer’d with an anticke face.
To fcorne and ieere at our folemnitie ?
Now by the ftocke and honor of my kin.
To flrike him dead I hold it for no fm.
Ca. Why how now cofen, wherefore florm you fo.
Ti. Vncle this is a Mountague our foe,
A villaine that is hether come in fpight.
To mocke at our folemnitie this night.
Ca. Young Romeo is it not ?
Ti. It is that villaine Romeo.
Ca. Let him alone, he beares him like a portly gentleman.
And to fpeake truth, Verona brags of him.
As of a vertuous and well gouern’d youth :
I would not for the wealth of all this towne.
Here in my houfe doo him difparagement :
Therefore be quiet take no note of him,
Beare a faire prefence, and put off thefe frownes,
An ill befeeming femblance for a feafl.
Ti. It fits when fuch a villaine is a guefl.
He not indure him. '
Ca. He fhal be indured, goe to I fay, he fhall.
Am I the mafter of the houfe or you ?
You’le not indure him \ God fhall mend my foule
You’le make a mutenie amongft my guefts,
You’le fet cocke a hoope, you’le be the man.
Ti. Vncle tis a fhame,
Ca. Goe too, you are a faucie knaue.
This tricke will fcath you one day I know what.
Well faid my hartes : be quiet :
More light ye knaue, or 1 will make you quiet.
B2
Tib alt.
The most excellent Tragedie
Tihalt. Patience perforce 'with wilfull choller meeting.
Makes my flefli tremble in their different greetings ;
I will withdraw, but this intrufion fhall
Now feeming fweet, conuert to bitter gall.
Rom. If I prophane with my vnworthie hand.
This holie fhrine, the gentle finne is this :
My lips two blufhing pilgrims ready Hand,
To fmooth the rough touch with a gentle ki/Te.
lull. Good pilgrime you doe wrong your hand too much,
Which mannerly deuotion fhewes in this ;
For faints haue hands which holy palmers touch,
^nd palme to palme is holy palmers kifle.
Rom. Haue not faints lips, and holy palmers too ?
luli. Yes pilgrime lips that they muff vfe in praier.
Ro. Why then faire faint, let lips do what hands doo.
They pray, yeeld thou, leaft faith turne to defpaire.
lu. Saints doe not mooue though : grant nor praier forfake.
Ro. Then mooue not till my praiers effed I take.
Thus from my lips, by yours my fin is purgde.
III. Then haue my lips the fin that they haue tooke.
Ro. Sinne from my lips, O trefpaffe fweetly vrgde I
Giue me my finne againe.
lu. You kiffe by the booke.
Nurfe. Madame your mother calles.
Rom. What is her mother ?
JMurfe. Marrie batcheler her mother is the ladle of the
houfe, and a. good lady, and' a wife, and a vertuous. I nurft
her daughter that you taikt withall, I tell you, he that can
lay hold of her fhall haue the chinkes.
Rom. Is fhe a Mountague P Oh deare account.
My life Is my foes thrall.
Ca. Nay gentlemen prepare not to be gone.
We haue a trifling foolilli banquet towards.
They 'whif^er in his ears.
I pray
OF Romeo and Iuliet.
I pray you let me intreat you. Is it fo ?
Well then I thanke you honefl gentlemen,
I promife you but for your company,
I would haue bin a bed an houre agoe :
Light to my chamber hoe. Exeunt^
luL Nurfe, what is yonder gentleman ?
Nur. The fonne and heirc of old Tiberio.
lul. Whats he that now is going out of dore ?
Nur, That as I thinke is yong Petruchio,
lul, Whats he that followes there that would not dance ?
■ Nur, I know not.
luL Goe learne his name, if he be marled,
My graue is like to be my wedding bed.
Nur. His name is Romeo and a Mountague, the onely fonne
of your great enemie.
lul. My onely loue fprung from my onely hate.
Too early feene vnknowne, and knowne too late : '
Prodigious birth of loue is this to me,
That I fhould loue a loathed enemie.
Nurfe. Whats this ? whats that ?
JuL Nothing nurfe but a rime I learnt euen now of one I
dancH with.
Nurfe. Come your mother dales for you, He goe along with
you. Exeunt.
Enter Romeo alone,
Ro, Shall I goe forward and my heart is here ?
Turne backe dull earth and finde thy center out.
Enter Benuolio Mercutio,
Ben. Borneo^ my cofen Romeo.
Mer. Doeft thou hcare he is wife.
The most excellent Tracedie
Ben, He came this way, and leapt this orchard wall.
Call good Mercutio.
Mer, Call, nay He conlure too.
Romeoy madman, humors, paflion, liuer, appeare thou in
iikenes of a fjgh : fpeak but one rinie and I am fatisfied, cry
but ay me. Pronounce but loue and doue, fpeake to my go/Tip
Venus one faire w'ord, one nick name for her purblinde fonne
and heire young Jbraharn ; Cupid hee that (hot fo trim when
young king Cophetua loued the begger wench. Hee heares
me not. I coniure the,e by Rofalindes bright eye, high fore-
head, and fcarlet lip, her prettie foote, ftraightleg, and quiuer-
ing thigh, and the demaines that there adiacent lie, that in
thy likenelTe thou appeare to vs.
Ben. If he doe heafe thee thou wilt anger him.
Mer. Tut this cannot anger him, marrie if one fhuld raife
a fpirit in his mifiris circle of fome firange fafhion, making it
there to Hand till fhe had laid it, and coniurde it downe, that
were fome fpite. My inuocation is faire and honeH, and in
his miflris name I coniure onely but to raife vp him.
Ben. W^ll he hath hid himfelfe arhongfl: thofe trees.
To, be conforted with the humerous night,
Blinde in his loue, and befl befits thedarke.
Mer. If loue be blind, loue will not hit the marke.
Now will he fit vnder a medler tree.
And wilh his mifiris were that kinde of frulte.
As maides call medlers when they laugh alone*
Ah Romeo that ihe were, ah that fhe were
An open Et catera, thou a poprin peare.
Romeo God night, il’e to my trundle bed :
This field bed is too cold for mee.
Come lets away, for tls but vaine.
To feeke him here that meanes not to be found.
Ro. He iefis at fears that neuer felt a wound :
But foft, what light forth yonder window breakes ?
It
OF Romeo and Iuliet^
It is the eafl:, and luliet is the funne,
A rife faire funne, and kill the enuious moone
That is alreadie ficke, and pale with griefe :
That thou her maid, art far more faire than fhe.
Be not her maide fince fhe is enuious,
Her veflall liuerie is but pale and greene,
And none but fooles doe weare it, call it off.
She fpeakes, but fhe fayes nothing. What of that I
Her eye difcourfeth, I will anfwere it.
I am too bold, tis not to me fhe fpeakes,
Two of the faireft flarres in all the flcies,
Hauing fome bufines, do entreat her eyes
To twinckle in their fpheares till they returne.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head.
The brightnes of her cheekes would fhame thofe flars :
As day-light doth a lampe, her eyes in heauen.
Would through the airie region flreame fo bright.
That birdes would fing, and thinke it were not night.
Oh now fhe leanes her cheekes vpon her hand,
Iwould I were the gloue to that fame hand.
That I might kiffe that cheeke.
luh Ay me.
Rom, She fpeakes, oh fpeake againe bright angell :
For thou art as glorious to this night beeing oner my head.
As is a winged meffenger of heauen
Vnto the white vpturned woondring eyes,
Of mortals that fall backe to gaze on him.
When he beftrides the lafle pacing cloudes.
And failes vpon the bofome of the aire.
lul. Ah Romeo^ Romeoy wherefore art thou Romeo P
Denie thy father, and refufe thy name.
Or if thou wilt not be but fworne my loue.
And Il’e no longer be a Capulet,
Rom, Shall I heare more, or fhall I fpeake to this ?
B4
hit.
The most excellent Tragedie
hi. Tis but thy name that is mine enemie.
Whats Mountague 1 It is nor hand nor foote,
Nor arme, nor face, nor any other part.
Whats in a name \ That which we call a rofe.
By any other name would fmell as fweet ;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo cald,
Retaine the diuine perfedlion he owes :
Without that title Romeo part thy name.
And for that name which is no part of thee,
Take all I haue.
Rom. I take thee at thy word.
Call me but loue, and Il’e be new baptifde.
Henceforth I neuer will be Romeo.
lu. What man art thou, that thus beikrind in night,
Doefl Humble on my connfaile ?
Ro. By a name I know not how to tell thee.
My name deare faint is hatefull to my felfe,
Becaufe it is an enemie to thee.
Had I it written I would teare the word.
lul. My eares haue not yet drunk a hundred words
Of that tongues vtterance, yet I know the found :
Art thou not Romeo and a Mountague ?
Rom. Neyther faire faint, if eyther thee difpleafe.
lul. Flow camfr fhou hether, tell me and wherfore ?
The orchard walks are high and hard to clime,
And the place death confidering who thou art.
If any of my kinfmen finde thee here.
Ro. By loues light winges did I oreperch thefe wals.
For ftonie limits cannot hold loue out.
And what loue can doo, that dares loue attempt,
Therefore thy kinfmen are no let to me.
lul. If they doe finde thee they will murder thee.
Rom. Alas there lies more perrill in thine eyes.
OF Romeo and Iuliet.
Then twentle of their fwords, looke thou but fweete,
And I am proofe againft their enmitie.
luL I would not for the world they fhuld find thee here.
Ro. I haue nights cloak to hide thee' from their fight,
And but thou loue me let them finde me here :
For life were better ended by their hate.
Than death proroged wanting of thy loue.
luL By whofe dire61ions foundfl thou out this place.
Ko, By loue, who firfl did prompt me to enquire,
I he gaue me counfaile and I lent him eyes.
I am no pilot : yet wert thou as farre
As that vafl fhore, wafht with the fur theft fea,
I would aduenture for fuch marchandife.
lul. Thou knowfl the mafke of night is on my face,
Els would a maiden blufli bepaint my cheeks :
For that which thou haffe heard me fpeake to night,
Faine would I dwell on forme, faine faine denie.
What I haue fpoke : but farewell complements,
Doefl thou loue me ? Nay I know thou wilt fay I, •
And' I will take thy word ; but if thou fwearfl.
Thou maiefl: proue falfe :
At louer periuries they fay lone fmiles.
Ah gentle Romeoy if thou loue pronounce it faithfully :
Or if thou thinke I am too eafely wonne,
Il’e frowne and fay thee nay and be peruerfe.
So thou wilt wooe : but els not for the world.
In truth faire Mountague, I am too fond.
And therefore thou maiefl thinke my hauiour light :
But truft me gentleman He proue more true.
Than they that haue more cunning to be flrange.
I fhould haue bin flrange I muff confeffe.
But that thou ouer-heardif ere I was ware
My true loues palTion : therefore pardon me.
And
The most excellent Tragedie
And not impute this yeelding to light loue,
Which the darke night hath fo difcoiiered.
Ro. By yonder blelTed moone I fweare,
That tips with filuer all thefe fruit trees tops.
lul. O fweare not by the moone the vnconflant moone.
That monthlie changeth in her circled orbe,
Leaft that thy loue proue likewife variable.
Ro. Now by
lul. Nay doo not fweare at all,
Or if thou fweare, fweare by thy glorious felfc.
Which art the God of my idolatrie.
And Il’e beleeue thee.
Ro. If my true harts loue
lul. Sweare not at al, though I doo ioy in thee,
I haue fmall ioy in this contrail to night,
It is too ralh, too fodaine, too vnaduifde.
Too like the lightning that doth ceafe to bee
Ere one can fay it lightens. ^ I heare fome comming,
Deare loue adew, fweet Mountague be true.
Stay but a little and Il’e come againe.
Ro. O blelTed blelTed night, I feare being night,
All this is but a dreame I heare and lee,
Too flattering true to be fubflantiall.
lul. Three wordes goode Romeo and good night indeed.
If that thy bent of loue be honourable ?
Thy purpofe marriage, fend me word to morrow
By one that ITe procure to come to thee :
Where and what time thou wilt performe that right.
And al my fortunes at thy foote Il’e lay.
And follow thee my lord through out the world.
Ro. Loue goes toward loue like fchoole boyes from their
bookes,
But loue from loue, to fchoole with heauie lookes.
lul
OF Romeo and luLiEXi
ltd. Romeo^ Romeoy O for a falkners voice.
To lure is talTell gentle backe againe :
Bondage is hoarfe and may not crie aloud,
Els would I teare the caue where eccho lies
And make her airie voice as hoarfe as mine,
With repetition of my Romeos name.
Romeo ?
r Ro. It is my foule that calles vpon my name.
How filuer fweet found louers tongues in night,
luL Romeo P
Ro. Madame.
Jid, At what a clocke to morrow fliall I fend ?
Ro. At the houre of nine.
lul. I will not faile, tis twentie yeares till then.
Romeo I haue forgot why I did call thee backe.
Rom. Let me flay here till you remember it.
lul. I fhall forget to haue thee flill flaie here,
Remembring how I loue thy companle.
Rom. And Il’e flay flill to haue thee flill forget.
Forgetting any other home but this.
lu, Tis almoft morning I would haue thee gone.
But yet no further then a wantons bird.
Who lets it hop a little from her hand.
Like a pore prifoner in his twifled giues,
And with a hike thred puls it backe againe.
Too louing iealous of his libertic.
Rom. Would I were thy bird.
lul. Sweet fo would I, -
Yet I fhould kill thee with much cherrifhing thee.
Good night, good night, parting is fuch fweet forrow.
That I fhall fay good night till it be morrow,
Rom. Sleepe dwell vpon thine eyes, peace on thy breaft,
I would that I were deep and peace of fweet to reft,
Now will I to my ghoflly fathers cell.
His help to craue, and my good hap to tell.
The most excellent Tragedie
Enter frier Francis.
Frier. The gray ey’d morne fmiles on the frowning night,
Checkring the eafterne clouds with fireakes of light,
' And flecked darkenes like a drunkard reeles.
From forth dales path, and Titans fierie wheeles :
Now ere the funne aduance his burning eye,
The world to cheare, and nights darke dew to drie.
We mufl: vp fill this oafier cage of ours.
With balefull weeds, and precious iuyced flowers.
Oh mickle is the powerfull grace that lies
In hearbes, plants, ftones, and their true qualities :
For nought fo vile, that vile on earth doth Hue,
But to the earth fome fpeciall good doth giue :
Nor nought fo good, but firaind from that faire vfe,
Reuolts to vice and flumbles on abufe :
Vertue it felfe turnes vice being mifapplied.
And vice fometimes by action dignified.
Within the infant rinde of this fmall flower,
Poyfon hath refidence, and medecine power :
For this being fmelt too, with that part cheares ech hart.
Being tafied flaies all fences with the hart.
Two fuch oppofed foes incampe them {fill,
, In man as well as herbes, grace and rude will.
And where the worfer is predominalit.
Full foone the canker death eats vp that plant.
Rom. Good morrow to my ghoflly confeflbr.
Fri. Benedicitey what ^arlie tongue fo foone faluteth me ?
Yong fonne it argues a diftempered head.
So foone to bid good morrow to my bed.
Care keepes his watch in euerie old mans eye.
And where care lodgeth, . fleep can neuer lie :
But where vnbrufed youth with vnfluft braines
Doth couch his limmes, tHere golden fleepe remaines :
There
OF Romeo and Iuliet.
Therefore thy earlines doth me affure,
Thou art vprowf’d by fome diftemperature.
Or if not fo, then here I hit it right
Our Romeo hath not bin a bed to night.
Ro, The laft was true, the fweeter reft was mine.
Fr» God pardon fin, wert thou with Rofaline P
Ro, With Rofaline my ghoftly hither no,
I haue forgot that name, and that names woe.
Fri. Thats my good fonne ; but where haft thou bin then ?
Ro. I tell thee ere thou afke it me againe,
I haue bin feafting with mine enemie :
Where on the fodaine one hath wounded mee
Thats by me wounded, both our remedies
With in thy help and holy phificke lies,
I beare no hatred blefled man : for loe
My intercellion likewife fteades my foe.
Frier. Be plaine my fonne and homely in thy drift,
Ridling confeffion findes but ridling fhrift.
Rom. Then plainely know my harts deare loue is fet
On the faire daughter of rich Capulet :
As mine on hers, fo hers likewife on mine.
And all combind, faue what thou muft combine
By holy marriage : where, and when, and how.
We met, we woo’d, and made exchange of vowes,
Il’e tell thee as I pafte ; but this I pray,
That thou confent to marrie vs to day.
Fri. Holy S. Francis, w^hat a change is here ?
Is Rofaline whome thou didft loue fo deare
So foone forfooke, lo yong mens loue then lies
Not truelie in their harts, but in their eyes.
lefii Maria, what a deale of brine
Hath wafht thy fallow. cheekes, for Rofaline P
How much fait water caft away in wafte.
To feafon loue, that of loue doth not tafte.
The
‘ The most excellent Tragedie
The funne not yet thy iighes from heauen cleares.
Thy old grones ring yet in my ancient eares.
And loe vpon thy cheeke the ftaine doth fit.
Of an old tearc that is not wafht off yet.
If euer thou wert thus, and thefe woes thine.
Thou and thefe woes were all for Rof aline,
And art thou changde, pronounce this fentence then
Women may fal, when ther’s no Hrefigth in men,
Rmi- Thouchidfl me oft for louing Rofaline,
Fr» Fordoating, not for louing, pupill mine,
Rom, And badfl me burie loue.
Fr, Not in a graue,
To lay one in another out to have.
Rom. I pree thee chide not, (he whom I loue now
Doth grace for grace, and loue for loue allow :
The other did not fo.
Fr. Oh file knew well
Thy loue did read by rote, and could not fpell.
But come young wauerer, come goe with mee.
In one refpe6l He thy afliflant bee :
For this alliaunce may fo happie proue.
To turne your houfliolds rancour to pure loue.* Exeunt,
Enter Mercutio, Benuolio.
Mer. Why whats become of Romeo P came he not home to
night ?
Ben. Not to his fathers, I fpake with his man.
Mer. Ah that fame pale hard hearted wench, that Rofaline,
Torments him fo, that he will fure run mad.
Mer. Tybalt, the kinfman of olde Calolet
Hath fent a letter to his fathers houfe :
Some challenge on my life.
Ben. Romeo will anfwere it.
Mer.
OF Romeo and Iuliet.’
McY. I, anie man that can write may anfwere a letter.
Ben. Nay he will anfwere the letters mafler if hee bee chal-
lenged.
Mer. Who, Romeo ? why he is alreadie dead : flabd with a
white wenches blacke eye, Ihot thorough the eare with a loue
fong, the verie pinne of his heart cleft with the blinde bow-
boyes but-fliaft. And is he a man to encounter Tybalt f
Ben. Why what is Tybalt F
Mer. More than the prince of cattes I can tell you. Oh he
is the couragious captaine of complements. Catfo, he lightes
as you fing pricke-fong, keepes time dyflance and proportion,
refts me his minum reft one two and the thirde in your bofome,
the very butcher of a filken button, a duellift a duellift, a gen-
tleman of the very firft houfe of the firft and fecond caufe, ah
the immortall paftado, the punto reuerfo, the hay.
Ben. The what ?
Me. The poxe of fuch limping antique affecling flmtafti-
coes thefe new' tuners of accents. By lefu a very good blade,
a very tall man, a very good whoore. Why graundfir is not
this a miferable cafe that we fhould be ftil affliefted with thefe
ftrange flies : thefe faflilonmongers, thefe pardonmees, that
ftand fo much on the new forme, that they cannot fitte at
cafe on the old bench. Oh their bones, theyr bones.
Ben. Heere comes Romeo.
Mer. Without his roe, like a dryed hering._ O flefli flefli
how art thou fifhified. Sirra now is he for the numbers that
Petrarch flowdin : Laura to his lady was but a kitchin drudg,
yet fhe had a better loue to berime her : Dido a dowdy Cleopa-
tra a gypfie. Hero and Helen hildings and harletries : Thijhie
a gray eye or fo, but not to the purpofe. Signior Romeo bon
iour, there is a French curtefie to your Fi'ench flop : yee gaue
vs the counterfeit fairely yefternight.
Rom. What counterfeit I pray you ?
Me. The flip the flip, can you not conceiue ?
Rom.
The most excellent Tragedie
Rom. I cry you mercy my bufines was great, and in fuch a
cafe as mine, a man may flraine curtefie.
Mer. Oh thats as much to fay as fuch a cafe as yours wil
confiraine a man to bow in the hams.
Rom. A mod curteous expofuion.
Mer. Why I am the very pinkc of curtefie*
Rom, Pinjte for flower ?
Mcr, Right.
Rom. Then is my pumpe well flour’d t
Mer. Well faid, follow me no we that iefl: till thou hafl: worne
out thy pumpe, that when the Angle foie of it is worn the ieft
may remalne after the wearing folie Anguler.
Rom. O Angle foald ieA folie Anguler for the Anglenes,
]\le. Come between vs good Benuolio, for my wits faile.
Rom. Swits and fpurres, fwits and fpurres, or He cry a
match.
Mer. Nay if thy wits runne the wildgoofe chafe, I haue
done : for I am fure thou haft more of the goofe in one of
thy wits, than I haue in al my Aue : was I with you there for
the goofe ?
Rom. Thou wert neuer with me for any thing, when thou
wert not with me for the goofe.
Me. He bite thee by the eare for that iefl.
Rom. Nay good goofe bite nor.
Mer. Why thy wit is a bitter fweeting, a moft fharp fauce
Rom. x4nd was it not well feru’d in to a fweet goofe ?
Mer. Oh heere is a witte of Cheuerell that Aretcheth from
an ynch narrow to an ell broad.
Rom. I flretcht it out for the word broad, which added to
the goofe, proues thee faire and wide a broad goofe.
Mer. Why is not this better now than groning for loue ?
why now art thou fociable, now art thou thy felfe, nowe art
thou what thou art, as wel by arte as nature. This driueling
loue
OF Romeq and Iuliet.
loue is like a great natural), that runs vp and downe to hide
his bable in a hole.
Ben. Stop there.
Me. Why thou would haue me flopp my talc againfl the
haire.
Ben. Thou wouldft haue made thy tale too long ?
Mer. Tut man thou art deceiued, I meant to make it fliort,
for I was come to the whole depth of my tale ? and meant in-
deed to occupie the argument no longer.
Rom. Heers goodly geere.
Enter Nurfe and her man.
Mer. A faile, a faile, a faile.
Ben. Two, two, a (hirt and a fmocke.
iVwr. Peter y pree thee giue me my fan.
Mer. Pree thee doo good Peter y to hide her face :
for her fanne is the fairer of the two.
Nur. God ye good morrow gentlemen.
Mer. God ye good den faire gentlewoman.
Nur. Is it godye gooden I pray you.
Mer. Tis no leffe I* aflure you, for the baudie hand of the
dial! is euen now vpon the pricke of noone.
Nur. Fie, what a man is this ?
Rom. A gentleman nurfe, that God hath made for himfelfe
to marre.
Nur. By my troth well faid : for himfelfe to marre quoth
he \ I pray you can anie of you tell where one male finde yong
Romeo ?
Rom. I can : but yong Romeo will bee elder when you haue
found him, than he was when you fought him, I am the
yongefl of that name for fault of a worfe.
Nur. Well faid.
Mer. Yea, is iheworfl well ? mas well noted, wifely, wifely.
Nur. If you be he fir, 1 defire fome conference with ye.
VoL. IV. C Ben.
The most excellent Tragedie
Ben. O, belike fhe meanes to inuite him to fupper,
jlfer. So ho. A baud, a baud, a baud.
J^cm. Why what haA found man ?
Mer. No hare fir, vnlelTe it be a hare in'a lenten pye, that
is fomewhat Aale and hoare ere it be eaten.
I/e w dikes by them, and fings.
And an olde hare hore, and an olde hare hore
Is verie good meate in Lent :
But a hare thats hoare is too much for a fcore,
If it hore ere it be fpent,
Youl come to your fathers to fupper f
Rom. I will.
Mer. Farewell ancient ladle, farewell fweete ladle.
Exeunt Benuolio, Mercuilo.
Nur. Marry farewell. Pray what faucie merchant was this
that was fo full of his roperipe ?
Rc?n. A gentleman nurfe that loues to hear himfelfe talke,
and will fpeake more in an houre than hee will Aand to in a
month.
A^ur. If he Aand to anie thing again A mee, He take him
downe if he were luAier than he is : if I cannot take him
downe, He finde them that fliall : 1 am none of his Aurtgills, I
I am none of his Ikaines mates.
She turtles to Peter her man.
And thou like a knaue mu A Aand by, and fee euerie iacke vfe
me at his pleafure.
Pet. I fee nobodie vfe you at his pleafure, if I had, I
would foone hauedrawen : you know my tooleis as foone out
as anothers if I fee time and place.
. Awr. Now afore God he hath fovext me, that euerie member
about mequiuers: feuruie iacke. But as I faid, my ladie bad
me
OP Romeo akd Iuliet;
inc fccke ye out, and what flice bad me tell yce, that He keepe
to my fclfc : but if you fliould lead her into a fooles paradice
as they faye, it were a verie grofTc kinde of behauiour as they
fay, for the gentlewoman is yong. Now if you fhould dcale
doubly with her, it were verie wcake dealing, and not to be
offered to aiiie gentlewoman.
Rom. Nurfc, commend me to thy ladle, tell her I protefl.
Nur. Good heart ; yfaith He tell her fo : oh fhe will be a
ioyfull woman.
Rr/m. Why, what wilt thou tell her ?
Nur. That you doo protefl : which (as I take it) is a gen-
ttemanlike proffer.
Rom. Bid her get leaue to morrow morning
To come to fhrift to frier Laurence cell :
And flay thou nurfe bchinde the abbey wall.
My man (hall come to thee, and bring along
The cordes, made like a tackled ftairc,
Which to the high top-gallant of my ioy
Mufl be my condu(fl in the fecret night.
Hold, take that for thy paines.
Nur. No, not a penie truly.
Rom. I fay you fhall not chufe.
Nur. Well, to morrow morning fhe fhall not faile.
Rom. Farev/ell, be truflie, and He quite thy paine. Exit.
Nur. Peter, take my fanne, and goe before. Ex: omnes.
Enter luliet.
Jul. The clocke ftroke nine when I did fend my nurfle
In halfe an houre fhe promifl to returne.
Perhaps fhe cannot finde him. Thats not fo.
Oh fhe is lazie, loues heralds fhould be thoughts.
And runne more fwift, than haftie powder herd.
Doth hurrie from the fearfull cannons mouth.
C 2
Enter
The most excellent Tragedie
Enter Nurfe.
Oh now (he comes. Tell me gentle nurfe,
What fayes my loue ?
Nur. Oh I am wearie, let mee reft a while. Lord how my
bones ake^ Oh wheres my man ? Giue me fome aqua vitae.
Iiil. I would thou hadft my bones, and I thy newes.
Nur» Fie, what a iaunt haue I had : and my backe a tother
fide. Lord, Lord, what a cafe am I in.
Jul. But tell me fweet nurfe, what fayes Romeo ?
Nur. Romeo, nay, alas you cannot chufe a man. Hees no
bodie, he is not the flower of curtefie, he is not a proper man :
and for a hand, and a foote, and a baudie, wel go thy way
wench, thou haft it ifaith. Lord, Lord, how my head
beates ?
lul. What of all this ? tell me what fayes he to our ma-
nage ?
Nur. Marry he fayes like an honeft gentleman, and a klnde>
and I warrant a vertuous : wheres your mother ?
luI. Lord, Lord, how odly thou replieft ? He faies like a
kinde gentleman, and an honeft, and a vertuous j wheres your
mother.
Nur. Marry come vp, cannot you ftay a while ? is this the
poulteflTe for mine aking boanes ? next arrant youl haue done,
euen doot your felfe.
lul Nay ftay fweet nurfe, I doo intreate thee now.
What fayes my loue, my lord, my Romeo.
Nur. Goe, hye you ftraight to frier Laurence cell,
And frame a fcufe that you muft goe to fhrift :
There ftayes a bridegroome to make you a bride.
Now comes the wanton blood vp in your cheekes,
I muft prouide a ladder made of cordes.
With which your lord muft clime a birdes neft foone.
I muft
OF Romeo and Iuliet.
I mud take paines to further yoiir delight.
But you mud beare the burden foone at night.
Doth this newes pleafe you now ?
lul. How doth her latter words reuiue my hart. '
Thankes gentle nurfe, difpatch thy budnes,
And lie not faile to meete my Romeo. Exeunt.
Enter Romeo, Frier.
Rom. Now father Laurence, in thy holy grant
Confids the good of me and luUet.
Fr. Without more words I will doo all I may,
To make you happie if in me it lye.
'Rom. This morning here fhe pointed we diould meet.
And confumate thofe neuer parting bands,
Witnes of our harts loue by ioyning hands.
And come die will.
Fr. I gede die will indeed,
Youths loue is quicke, fwifter than fwifted fpeed.
Enter luliet fomewhat fajly and embraceth Romeo.
See where die comes.
So light of foote nere hurts the troden dower :
Of loue and ioy, fee fee the foueraigne power.
lul. Romeo.
Rom. My luliet welcome. As doo waking eyes
(Cloafd in nights myds) attend the frolicke day,
So Romeo hath expeflcd luliet,
And thou art come.
Jul. 1 am (if I be day)
Come to my funne : diine foorth, and make me faire.
Rom. All beauteous fairnes dwelleth in thine eyes.
Jul. Romeo from thine all brightnes doth arife.
Fr. Come wantons, come, the dealing houres do pafle
Defer imbracements till fome dtter time,
C3
•Part
The most excellent TragediE
Part for a while, ^fou (hall not be alone.
Till holy church haue ioynd ye both in one.
Rom. Lead holy father,. all delay feemes long.
Jid. Make haft, make haft, this lingring doth vs wrong.
Tr. O, foft and faire makes fweeteft worke they fay.
Haft is a common hindrer in crofte way. Exeunt ormies.
Enter Benuolio, Mercutio,
Ben. I pree thee good Mercutio lets retire.
The day is hot, the Capels are abroad.
Mer. Thou art like one of thofe, that when hee comes in-
to the confines of a tauerne, claps me his rapier on the boord,
and fayes, God fend me no need of thee : and by the operation
of the next cup of wine, he drawes it on the drawr, when in
deed there is no need.
Ben. Am I like fuch a one ?
Mer. Go too, thou art as hot a iacke being mooude, and
as foone mooude to be moodie, and as foone moodie to be
mooud.
Ben. And what too ?
Mer. Nay, and there were two fuch, wee fhould haue none
fhortly Didft not thou fall out with a man for cracking of
nuts, hauing no other reafon, but becaufe thou hadft hafill
eyes ? what eye but fuch an eye would haue pickt out fuch a
quarrell ? With another for coughing, becaufe hee wakd thy
dogge that lay a fleepe in the funne ? With a taylor for wear-
ing his new dublet before Eafter : and with another for tying
his new ftioes with olde ribands. And yet thou wilt forbid
me of quarrelling.
Ben. By my Lead heere comes a Capolet.
Enter Tybalt.
Mer. By my heele I’ care not.
Tyb. Gentlemen a word with one of *yo«.
Merl
OF Romeo and Iuliet.
Mer, But one word with one of vs ? You had befl couple it
with fomewhat, and make it a word and a blow.
Tyh. I am apt enough to that if I haue occafion.
Mer, Could you not take occafion ?
Tyb. Mercutio thou conforts with Rcmeo ?
Mer. Confort, zwounes confort ? the flaue wil make fid-
krs of vs. If you doe firra, look for nothing but difcord :
Fct heeres my fiddle-fticke.
Enter Romeo.
Tyb. Well peace be with you, heere comes my man.
Mer. But He be hanged if he weare your lyuery : mary go
before into the field, and he may be your follower, fo in that
fence your worfhip may call him man.
Tyb. Romeo the hate I bearc to thee can affoord no better
words then thefe, thou art a villaine.
Rom. Tybalt the loue I beare to thee, doth excufe the ap-
pertaining rage to fuch a word : villaine am I none, therfqie
1 well perceiue thou knowft me not.
Tyb. Bace boy this cannot ferue thy turne, and therefore
drawe.
Ro. I doe proteR I neuer iniured thee, but loue thee bet-
ter than thou canft deuife, till thou (halt know the reafon of
my loue.
Mer. O difhonorable vile fubmlflion. Allajlockado caries it
away. You ratcatcher, come backe, come backe.
Tyh. What wouldeft with me ?
Mer. Nothing king of cates, but borrow one of your nine
lines, therefore come drawe your rapier out of your fcabard,
leaft mine be about your eares ere you be aware.
Rom. Stay Tibalt, hould Mercutio : Benuolio beate downe
their weapons.
C4
Tibalt
The most excellent Tragedie
Tibalt vnder Romeos arme thrujis Mercutio, in and fly a.
Mer. Is he gone, hath hee nothing ? A poxe on your houfes.
Rom. What art thou hurt man, the wound is not deepe.
Mer. Noe not fo deepe as a well, nor fo wide as a barne
doore, but it ^ill ferue I warrant. What meant you to come
V betweene vs ? I was hurt vnder your arme.
Rom. I did all for the bed.
Mer. A poxe of your houfes, I am fairely dreft. Sirra goe
fetch me a fnrgeon.
Boy. I goe my lord.
Mer. I am pepperd for this world, I am fpcd yfaith, he
hath made wormes meate of me, and ye afke for me to mor-
row you (hall find me a graue-man. A poxe of your houfes,
I (hall be fairely mounted vpon foure-mens (boulders : For
your houfe of the Mountegucs and the Capolets : and then
fome peafantly rogue, fome fexton, fome bafe flaue (hall write
myepitapth, ih^tTybalt came and broke the princes lawes, and
Mercutio was flaine for the firft and fecond caufe. Wher’s
the furgeon ?
Boy. Hee’s come fir.
Mer. Now heele keepe a mumbling in my guts on the other
fide, come Benuolioy lend me thy hand ; a poxe of your
houfes. Exeunt^
7?c»z.This gentleman the princes nee re alie.
My very friend hath tane this mortall wound
In my behalfe, my reputation ftaind
With Tihalts (launder, Tybalt that an houre
Hath beene my kinfman. Ah luHet
Thy beautie makes me thus elfeminate.
And in my temper foftens valors Reele,
Enter
OF Romeo and Iuliet.
Enter Benuollo.
Ben. Ah Romeo Romeo braue Mercutio is dead.
That gallant fpirit hath afpir’d the cloudes,
Which too vntimely fcornd the lowly earth.
Rom. This dales black fate, on more dales doth depend
This but begins what other dayes muft end.
Enter Tibalt.
Ben. Heere comes the furious Tibalt backe againe.
Rom. A liue in tryumph and Mercutio flaine ?
Away to heauen refpe(fl:iue lenity :
And Her eyed fury be my condudl: now.
Now Tibalt take the villaine backe againe.
Which late thou gau’H: me : for Mercutios foule.
Is but a little way aboue the cloudes.
And ftaies for thine to beare him company.
Or thou, or I, or both (hall follow him.
Eighty Tibalt folks,
Ben. Romeo away, thou feeft that Tibe^fs flaine.
The citizens approach, away, begone
Thou wilt be taken.
Rom, Ah I am fortunes flaue. Exeunt,
Enter Citizens,
Watch. Wher’s he that flue Mercutio, Tybalt that villaine ?
Ben. There is that Tybalt,
Watch.- Vp firra goe with vs.
Enter Prince, Capolets 'luife.
Pry. Where be the vile beginners of this fray ?
Ben. Ah noble prince I can difeouer all
The mofl vnlucky mannage of this brawle.
Hecrc
The most excellent Tragedie
Heerc lyes the man flame by yong Romcoy
That flew thy kinfman braue Mercutioy
M. Tibalt, Tybalt , O my brothers child,
Vnhappie fight ? Ah the blood is fpilt
Of my dearc kinfman, prince as thou art true :
For blood of ours, fhed bloud of Mountageiv.
Pry. Speake Benuolio who began this fray ?
Ben. Tibalt heere flaine whom Romeos hand did flay.
Romeo who fpake him fayre bid him bethinke
How nice the quarrell was.
But Tibalt Ifill perfifting in his wrong,
The flout Mercutio drewe to calme the florme,
Which Romeo feeing cal’d flay gentlemen.
And on me cry’d, who- drew to part their flrife.
And with his agill arme young Romeoy
As fafl as tung cryde peace, fought peace to make.
While they were enterchanging thrufls and blows,
Vnder yong Romeos laboring arme to part.
The furious Tybalt call: an enuious thrufl.
That rid the life of flout Mercutio.
With that he fled, but prefently return’d.
And with his rapier braued Romeo :
That had but newly entertain’d reuenge.
And ere I could draw forth my rapyer
To part their furie, downe did Tybalt fall.
And this way Romeo fled.
Mo. He is a Mountageiv and fpeakes partial!.
Some twentie of Them fought in this blacke flrife :
And all thofe twenty could but kill one life.
I doo intreate fweete prince thoult iuflice giue,
Romeo flew Tybalt; Romeo may,not liue.,
Prin. And for that offence
Immediately we doo exile him hence.
OF ROiUEO AND lULIET.
1 haue an intereft in your hates proceeding.
My blood for your rude braules doth lye a bleeding.
But He amerce you with fo large a fine,
That you fhall all repent the lode of mine.
I will be deafe to pleading and excufcs.
Nor teares nor prayers (hall purchafe for abufes.
Pittie fhall dwell and gouerne with vs Hill :
Mercie to all but murdrers, pardoning none that kill.
Exeunt omneSi
Enter luliet.
lul. Gallop apace you fierie footed Heedes
To Phoebus manfion, fuch a waggoner
As Phaeton^ would quickly bring you thether.
And fend in cloudie night immediately.
Enter Nurfe 'wringing her hands, with the ladder of cor des in
her lap.
But how now nurfe : O Lord, why lookH thou fad ?
What hafl thou there, the cordes ?
Nur. I, I» the cordes : alacke we are vndone.
We are vndone, ladie we are vndone.
lul. What diuell art thou that torments me thus ? '
Nurf. Alack the day, hees dead, hees dead, hees dead,
Jul. This torture fhould be roard'in difmall hell.
Can heauens be fo enuioiis ?
Nur. Romeo can if heauens cannot.
I faw the wound, I fawat with mine eyes.
God faue the fample, on his manly breaH :
A bloodie coarfe, a piteous bloodie coarfe,
All pale as afhes, I fwounded at the fight.,
lul. Ah Romeo, RomeOi what difaffer hap i
Hath feuerd- thee from thy true Juliet,?
Ah why fhould heauen fo much confpire .with woe. ^
Or
The most excellent Tragedie
Or fate enuie our happie marriage,
So foone to funder vs by timeleffe death ?
Nur, O Tybalt, Tybalt, the befl frend I had,
O honeft Tybalt, curteous gentleman.
luL What ftorme is this that blowes fo contrarie.
Is Tybalt dead, and Romeo murdered :
My deare loude coufen, and my dearefl: lord.
Then let the trumpet found a generall doonie,
Thefe two being dead, then lining is there none.
Nur. Tybalt is dead, and Romeo banifhed,
Romeo that murdred him is banilhed.
lul. Ah heauens, did Romeos hand flied Tybalts blood
Nur. It did, it did, alacke the daye it did.
lul. O ferpents hate, hid with a flowring face :
O painted fepulcher, including filth.
Was neuer booke containing fo foule matter.
So fairly bound. Ah, what meant Romeo \
Nur. There is no truth, no faith, no honeftie in men :
All falfe, all faithles, periurde, all forfworne.
Shame come to Romeo.
lul. A blifler on that tung, he was not borne to fliame
Vpon his face fliame is afliamde to fit.
But wherefore villaine didfl: thou kill my coufen ?
That villaine coufen would haue kild my hulband.
All this is comfort. But there yet remaines
Worfe than his death, which faine I would forget :
But ah, it preflTeth to my memorie,
Romeo is baniflied. Ah that word baniflied.
Is worfe than death. Romeo is baniflied.
Is father, mother, Tybalt, luliet.
All killd, all flaine, all dead, all baniflied,
Where are my father and my mother nurfe ?
Nur. Weeping and wayling ouer Tybalts coarfe.
Will you goe to them ?
OF Romeo and Iuliet;
luL I, I, when theirs are fpent,
Mine (hall he (hed for Romeos banilhment.
Nur. Ladie, your Romeo will be here to night,
He to him, he is hid at Laurence cell.
lul. Do© fo, and beare this ring to my true knight.
And bid him come to take his laft farewell. Exeunt.
E7iter Frier.
Fr. Romeo come forth, come forth thou fearfull man.
Affliction is cnamourd on thy parts,
And thou art wedded to calamitie.
Enter Romeo.
Rom. Father what newes, what is the princes doome.
What forrow craues acquaintance at our hands.
Which yet we know not. , ■
Fr. Too familiar
Is my yong fonne with fuch fowre companie :
I bring thee tidings of the princes doome. • , ^
Rom, What lelTe than doomes day is the princes doome ?
Fr. A gentler iudgement vanilht from his lips,
Not bodies death, but bodies banifhment. •
Rom. Ha, banilhed ? be mercifull, fay death :
For exile hath more terror in his lookes.
Than death it felfe, doo not fay banifhment.
Fr. Hence from Verona art thou banifhed :
Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.
Rom. There is no world without Verona walls,
But purgatorie, torture, hell it felfe.
Hence baniflied, is banifht from the world :
And world exilde is death. Calling death banifhment, ’ /
Thou cutfl my head off with a golden axe.
And fmileR vpon the ftroke that murders me.
The most excellent Tragedie
Fr. Oh monllrous finne, O rude vnthankfulnfes :
Thy fault our law calls death, but the milde prince
(Taking thy part) hath ruftid ahde the law.
And turnd that blacke word death tobanilhment:
This is mcere mercie, and thou feefl: it not.
Rom. Tis torture-and riot mercie, heauen is heere
Where luliet liues : and euerie cat and dog,
. And little moufe, euerie vnworthie thing
Liue heere in heauen, and may looke on her.
But Romeo may not. More validitie.
More honourable ftate, more countfliip liues
In carrion flyes, than Romeo : they may feazs
On the white wonder of faire luliets ikinne.
And fteale immortall kilTes from her lips ;
But Romeo may not, he is banilhed.
Flies may doo this, but I from this mull flye.
Oh father hadfl thou no flrong poyfon mixt.
No Iharpe ground knife, no prefent meane of death.
Though nere fo ‘meane, but banifhment
To torture me withall : ah, banilhed.
O frier, the damned vfe that word in hell :
Howling attends it. How-hadft thou the heart.
Being a diuine, a ghoflly confelTor,
A finne abfoluer, and my frend profeft.
To mangle me with that word, banilhment ?
Fr. Thou fond mad man, heare me but fpeake a word,
Rom. O, thou wilt talke againe of banilhment.
Fr. He glue thee armour to beare off this word,
Aduerlities fweete milke, philofophie.
To comfort thee though thou be banifhed.
Rom. Yet banifhed ? hang vp philofophie,
Vnleffe philofophie can make a Juliet^
Difplant a towne, reuerfe a princes doome.
It helpes not, it prevailes not, talke no more.
OF 'Romeo and Iuliet.
Fr. O, now I fee that madmen haue no eares.
Rom. How ihould they, -when that wife men haue no eyes.
Fr. Let me difpute with thee of thy eflate,
Rom. Thou canfl not fpeak of what thou doA not feele.
Wert thou as young as I, Iiiliet thy loue.
An houre but married, Tybalt murdred.
Doting like me, and like me banilhed.
Then mightft thou fpeake, then mightft thou teare thy hayre.
And fall vpon the ground as I doe now.
Taking the meafure of an vnmade grauc.
Nurfe knockes.
Fr. Romeo arife, hand vp thou wilt be taken,
I heare one knocke, arife and get thee gone.
Nil. Hoe fryer. ■
Fr. Gods will what wilfulnes is this ?
She knockes againe.
Nur. Hoe fryer open the doore,
Fr, By and by I come. Who is there ?
Niir. One from lady Iuliet,
Fr. Then come neare.
Nur. Oh holy fryer, tell mee oh holy fryer.
Where is my ladies lord ? Wher’s Romeo P
Fr. There on the ground, with his owne teares made drunke.
Nur. Oh he is euen in my miAreffe cafe.
luA in her cafe. Oh wpfull fimpathy,
Pitteous predicament, euen fo lyes (hee.
Weeping and blubbring, blubbring and weeping :
Stand vp, Aand vp, Aand and you be a man.
For luliets fake, for her fake rife and Aand,
Why fhould you fall into fo deepe an 0. ' '
The most excellent Tragedie
He rifes,
Rom. Nurfe.
Nur. Ah fir, ah fir. Wei deaths the end of all.
Rom. Spakefi: thou of luliety how is it with her
Doth file not thinke me an olde murderer.
Now I haue fiainde the childhood of her ioy.
With bloud remou’d but little from her owne ?
Where is fhe, and how doth fhe ? And what fayes
My conceal’d lady to our canceld loue ?
Ntir. Oh file faith nothing, but weepes and pules.
And now fals on her bed, now on the ground,
And Tybalt cryes, and then on Romeo calles.
Rom. As if that name fiiot from the deadly leuel of a gun
Did murder her, as that names curfed hand
Murderd her kinfman. Ah tell me holy fryer
In what vile part of this anatomy
Doth my name lye ? Tell me that I may facke
The hatefull manfion.
He offers to Jlab himfeifcy and nurfe fnatches the dagger
away.
Nur. Ah ?
Fr. Hold, fiay thy hand : art thou a man ? thy forme
Cryes out thou art, but thy wilde afles denote
The vnrefonable furyes of a beaft.
Vnfeemely woman in a feeming man.
Or ill befeeming beafi: in feeming both.
Thou haft amaz’d me. By my holy order,
I thought thy difpofition better temperd.
Haft thou flaine Tybalt F wilt thou flay thy felfc ?
And flay thy lady too, that hues in thee ?
Roufe vp thy fpirits, thy lady /M/zVrliues,
For whole fweet fake thou wert but lately dead :
There
OF Romeo and Iuliet.
There art thou happy. Tybalt would kill thee.
But thou fluefl Tybalt^ there art thou happy too.
A packe of blelTings lights vpon thy backe,
Happines courts thee in his befl array :
But like a mifbehaude and fullen wench
Thou frownft vpon thy fate that fmilles on thee.
Take heede, take heede, for fuch dye miferable.
Goe get thee to thy loue as was decreed :
Afcend her chamber window, hence and comfort her.
But looke thou flay not till the watch be fet ;
For then thou canfl not pafle to Mantua,
Nurfe prouide all things in a readines,
Comfort thy miftreffe, hafle the houfe to bed.
Which heauy forrow makes them apt vnto.
Nur, Good lord what a thing learning is,
1 could haue ftayde heere all this night
To heare good counfell. Well fir.
He tell my lady that you will come.
Rom. Doe fo and bidde my fweet prepare to chllde,
Farwell good nurfe.
Nurfe offers to goe in and turnes againe.
Nur. Heere is a ring fir, that fhe bad me giue you,
Rom. How well my comfort is reuiud by this.
Exit Nurfe.
Fr. Soiorne in Mantua^ lie finde out your man.
And he fhall fignifie from time to time :
Euery good hap that doth befall thee heere.
Farwell.
Rom. But -that a loy, pall: ioy cryes out on me.
It were a griefe fo bieefe to part with thee.
Enter olde Capolet and his ^jjifc, veith county Paris.
Cap. Thinges haue fallen out fir fo vnluckily,
That we haue had no tine to mouc my daughter.
VoL. IV. D
Looke
The most excellent Tragedie
Looke yee fir, fhe lou’d her kinfman dearely,
And fo did I. Well, we were borne to dye,
Wife wher’s your daughter, is fhe in her chamber ?
I thinke fhe meanes not to come downe to night.
Par. Thefe times of woe afFoord no time to wooe,
Maddam farwell, commend me to your daughter.
Paris offers to goc m, and Capolet calks him againe.
Cap. Sir Paris ? He make a defperate tender of my child. ,
I thinke fhe will be rulde in all refpedles by mee :
But foft what day is this ?
Par. Munday my lord.
Cap. Oh then Wenfday is too foone,
On Thurfday let it be : you fliall be maried.
Wee’le make no great a doe, a frend or two, or fo :
For looke ye fir, Tybalt being flaine fo lately,
It will be thought we held him careleflye :
If we fliould reuell much, therefore we wdll haue
Some halfe a dozen frends and make no more adoe.
But what fay you to Thurfday.
Paris. My lorde I wilhe that Thurfday were to morrow.
Cap. Wife goe you to your daughter, ere you gee to bed.
Acquaint her with the county Paris lone.
Fare well my lord till Thurfday next.
Wife gette you to your daughter. Light to my chamber.
Afore me it is fo very very late,
That we may call it earely by and by. Exeunt.
Enter Romeo and luliet at the ’window.
lid. Wilt thou be gone ? It is not yet nere day.
It was the nightingale and not the larke
'That pierft the fearfull hollow of thine eare :
Nightly fhe fings on yon pomegranate tree,
■Beleeue me loue, it was the nightingale.
Eom,
OF Romeo and Iuliet.’
Rmi. It was the larke, the herald of the morne,
And not the nightingale. See lone what enuious flrakes
Doo lace the feuering clowdes in yonder eaft.
Nights candles are burnt out, and iocond day
Stands tiptoes on the myflie mountaine tops.
I muft be gone and Hue, or flay and dye.
JuL Yon light is not day light, I know it I ;
It is fome meteor. that the funne exhales,
To be this night to thee a torch-bearer.
And light thee on thy way to Mantua,
Then flay a while, thou flialt not goe foone.
Rom, Let me flay here, let me be tane, and dj^e :
If thou wilt haue it fo, I am content.
He fay yon gray is not the mornings eye.
It is the pale reflex of Cynthias brow.
He fay it is the nightingale that beates »
The vaultie heanen fo high aboue our heads.
And not the larke the meffenger of morne.
Come death and welcome, Juliet wiis it fo.
What fayes my loue ? lets talke, tis not yet day.
JuL It is, it is, begone, flye hence away.
It is the larke that fings fo out of tune.
Straining harfh difcords and vnpleafing fliarpes.
Some fay the larke makes fweete diuiflon :
This doth not fo : for this diuideth vs.
Some fliy the larke and loathed toad change eyes,
I would that now they had changd voyces too :
Since arme from arme her voyce doth vs affray.
Hunting thee hence with huntfvp to the day.
So now be gone, more light and light it growes.
Rom. More light and light, more darke and darke our woes.
Farewell my loue, one kifie and He defcend.
He gceth do'vjne.
JuL Art thou gone fo, my lord, my loue, m.y frend ?
D 2 I mud
The most excellent Tragedie
I mufl: heare from thee euerie day in the hower ;
For in an hower there are manie minutes.
Minutes are dayes, fo will I number them :
Oh, by this count I (hall be much in yeares,
Ere I fee thee againe.
Rom. Farewell, I will omit no opportunitle
That may conueigh my greetings loue to thee.
lul. Oh, thinkfl thou we fliall euer meete againe.
Rom» No doubt, no doubt, and all this woe lhall ferue
For fwcete difcourfes in the time to come.
Jul. Oh God, I have an ill diuining foule.
Me tkinkes I fee thee now thou art below
Like one dead in the bottome of a tombe :
Either mine ey-fight failes, or thou lookfl pale.
Rom. And truft me loue, in my eye fo doo you,
Drie forrow drinkes our blood : adieu, adieu. Exit.
Enter Nurfe hajiely,
Niir. Madame beware, take heed the day is broke,
Your mother’s comming to your chamber, make all fure.
She goeth doionefrom the 'windovi.
Enter luliels mother, Nurfe.
Moth. Where are you daughter ?
Niir. What ladie, larabe, what luliet ?
lid. How now, who calls ?
Nur, It is your mother.
Moth. Why how now Juliet ?
Jul. Madam, I am not well.
Moth. What euermore weeping for your cofens death :
I thinke thoult walh him from his graue with teares.
Jill. I cannot chufe, hauing fo great a Ioffe.
Moth.
OF Romeo and Iuliet.
Moth, I cannot blame thee.
But it greeues thee more that villalne Hues.
M. What villaine madame ?
Moth. That villaine Romeo.
M. Villaine and he are manie miles a funder.
Moth. Content thee girle, if I could finde a man
I foone would fend to Mantua where he is.
That fliould beflow on him fo fure a draught.
As he (hould foone beare Tybalt companie.
ltd. Finde you the meanes, and He finde fuch a man s
For whileft he Hues, my heart Ihall nere be light
Till I behold him, dead is my poore heart.
Thus for a kinfman vext ?
Moth. Well let that pafle. I come to bring thee ioyfuH
newes ?
ltd. And ioy comes well in fucn a needful time.
Moth. Well then, thou half a carefull father girle.
And one who pittying thy needfull flate,
Hath found thee out a happle day of ioy.
lul. What day is that I pray you ?
Moth Marry my childe.
The gallant, yong and youthfull gentleman.
The countie Paris at faint Peters church.
Early next Thurfday morning muff prouide,
To make you there a glad and ioyfull bride.
lul. Now by faint Peters church and Peter too.
He fhall not there make mee a ioyfull bride.
Are thefe the newes you had to tell me of?
Marrie here are newes indeed. Madame I will not marric
yet.
And when I doo, it flial be rather Romeo whom I hate,
Than countie Paris that I cannot loue.
The most excellent Tragedie
Enter oldc Capolet.
Moth. Here comes your father, you may tell him fo.
Capo. Why how now, euermore fnowring ?
In one little bodie thou refembleft a fea, a barke, a Aorme :
For this thy bodic which I tearme a barke.
Still floating in thy euerfalling teares.
And tofl: with fighes arifing from thy hart :
Will without fuccour fliipwracke prefently.
But heare you wife, what haue you founded her, what faies
flie to it ?
Moth. I haue, but flie will none flie thankes ye :
Would God that flie were married to her graue.
Capo. What will fhe not, doth fne not thanke vs, doth flic
not wexe proud ?
liil. Not proud ye haue, but thankfull that ye haue :
Froud can I neuer be of that I hate.
But thankful! euen for hate that is ment loue.
Capo. Proud and I thanke you, and I thanke you not,
xA-iid yet not proud. , Whats here, chop logicke.
Proud me no prouds, nor thanke me no thankes.
But fettle 'your fine ioynts on Thurfday next
Togoe with Paris to faint Peters church,
Or I will drag you on a hurdle thether.
Out you greene ficknes baggage, out you tallow face.
luL Good father heare me fpeake.
She kneeles downe.
Cap. I tell thee what, eyther refolue on Thurfday next
To goe with Paris to faint Peters church :
Or henceforth neuer looke me in the face.
Speake not, reply not, for my fingers ytch.
Why wife, we thought that we were fcarcely bleA
That God had fent vs but this onely chyld ;
OF Roateo and Iuliet. .
But now I fee this one is one too much.
And that we haue a croffe in hauing her.
Nur. Mary God in heauen blefle her my lord.
You are too blame to rate her fo.
Cap. And why my lady wifedome ? hold your timg,
Good prudence fmatter with your goiTips, goe.
N’ur. Why my lord 1 fpeake no treafon.
Cap. Oh goddegodden.
Vttcr your grauity ouer a gofTips boule,
For here wee need it not.
Mo. My lord ye are too hctte.
Cap. Gods blelTed mother wife it mads me.
Day, night, early, late, at home, abroad.
Alone, in company, waking or fleeping.
Still my care hath beene to fee her matcht.
And hauing now found out a gentleman.
Of princely parentage, youthfull, and nobly trainde,
Stuft as they fay with honorable parts.
Proportioned as ones heart coulde wiQi a man :
And then to haue a wretched whyning foole,
A puling mammet in her fortunes tender.
To fay I cannot loue, I am too young, I pray you pardon mce?
But if you cannot wedde He pardon you.
Graze where you will, you fliall not houfe with me.
Looke to it, thinke ont, I do not vfe to iefl,
I tell yee what, Thurfday is neere.
Lay hand on heart, aduife, bethinke 3'our felfe,
If you be mine. He giue you to my frend :
If not, hang, drowne, Harue, beg.
Dye in the ftreetes for by my foule
He neuer more acknowledge thee.
Nor what I haue (hall euer doe thee good,
Thinke ont, looke toot, I doe not vfe to ieH :
D4
Exit.
IiiL
The most excellent Tragedte
luL Is there no pi tty hanging in the cloudes.
That lookes into the bottom of my woes ?
I doe befeech you madame, call me not away.
Defer this mariage for a day or two,
Or if you cannot, make my mariage bed
In that dimme monument where Tybalt lyes.
Moth, Nay be allured I will not fpeake a word.
Do what thou wilt for I haue done with thee. Exit.
lul. Ah nurfe what comfort ? what counfell canfl thou giii^
me.
Nur. Now tru/I me madame, I know not what to fay :
Your Romeo he is banifht, and all the world to nothing
He neuer dares rcturne to challendge you.
Now I thinke good you marry with this county,
Oh he is a gallant gentleman, Romeo is but a dilhclout
In rcfpe(ri: of him. I promife you
I thinke you happy in this fecond match.
As for your hufband he is dead :
Or twere as good he were, for you haue no vfe of him.
lul. Speakft thou this from thy heart ?
Nur. I and from my foule, or els befhrew them both.
lul. Amen.
Nur. What fay you madame \
lul. Well, thou hall comforted me wondrous much,
I pray thee goe thy waies vnto my mother
Tell her I am gone hauing difpleafde my father.
To fryer Laurence cell to confelTe me.
And to be abfolu’d.
Nur. I will, ■ and this is wifely done.
Shee lookes after nurfe.
lul. Auncient damnation, O moft curfed fiend.
Is it more finne to wifh me thus forfworne.
Or to difpraife him with the felfe fame tongue
I
That
OF Romeo and Iuliet*
That thou haft praifde him with aboue compare
So many thoufand times ? Goe counfellor.
Thou and my bofom henceforth ftial be twaine.
He to the fryer to know his remedy,
If all faile els, I haue the power to dye. Exit.
Enter Fryer and Paris.
\
Fr. On Thurfday fay ye : the time is very fhort.
Par. My father Capolet will haue it fo,
And I am nothing flacke to flow his haft.
Fr, You fay you doe not know the ladies minde ?
Vneuen is the courfe, I like it not.
Par. Immoderately flie weepes for Tybalts death.
And therefore haue I little talkt of lone.
For Venus fmiles not in a houfe of teares.
Now fir, her father thinkes it daungerous ;
That flie doth giue her forrow fo much fway.
And in his wifedome hafts our mariage.
To flop the inundation of her teares.
Which too much minded by her felfe alone
May' be put from her by focietie.
Now doe ye know the reafon of this haft.
Fr. I would I knew not why it fliould be flowd.
Enter Paris.
Heere comes the lady to my cell.
Par. Welcome my loue, my lady and my wife :•
III. That may be fir, when I may be a wife.
Par. That may be, muft be loue, on Thurfday next.
hd. What muft be ftial be.
Fr. Thats a certaine text.
Par. What come ye to confeftion to this fryer.
lu. To tell you that were to confelfe to yoiu
Par,
The most excellent Tragedie
Par. Do not deny to him that you loue me.
lul. I will confeflTe to you that I loue him, *
Par. So I am fure you will that you loue me.
lid. And if I doe it wll be of more price,
Being fpoke behinde your backe, than to your face.
Par. Poore foule, thy face is much abus’d with teares.
lid. The teares haue got fmall victory by that.
For it was bad enough before their fpito.
Par. Thou wrongfl it more than teares by that report.
III. That is no wrong fir, that is a truth :
And what I fpake I fpake it to my face.
Par. Thy face is mine and thou haft flaundred it.
111. It may be fo, for it is not mine owne.
Are you at leafurc holy father now :
Or fliall I come to you at euening malTe ?
Fr. hly leafure ferues me penfiuc daughter now.
My lord we muft entreate the time alone.
Par. God ftieild I fliould difturbe deuotion,
lidiet farwell, and keep this holy kitle. Exit Paris.
III. Goe fhut the doore and when thou haft done fo,
Come weepe with me that am paft cure, paft help,
Fr. Ah lulict I already know thy griefe,
I heare thou muft and nothing may proroge it.
On Thurfday next be married to the countie.
lul. Tell me not frier that thou hearft of it,
Vnleffe thou tell me how we may preuent it.
Giue me fome fudden counfell : els behold
Twixt my extreames and me, this bloodie knife
Shall play the vmpeere, arbitrating that
Which the commiffionof thy^yeares and arte
Could to no ilfue of true honour bring.
Speake not, be briefe : for I defire to die.
If what thou fpeakft, fpeake not of remedie.
Fr.
- OF Romeo and Iuliet.
Fr. Stay Juliet ^ I doo fpie a klnde of hope.
Which craues as defperate an execution,
As that is defperate we would preuent.
If rather than to marrie countie Paris
Thou haft the ftrength or will to flay thy felfe,
Tis not vnlike that thou wilt vndertake
A thing like death to chyde away this fliame,
Thar coapft with death itfelfe to flye from blame.
And if thou dooft, He glue thee remedie.
JuL Oh bid me leape (rather than marrie Paris )
From off the battlements of yonder tower :
Or chaine me to fome fleepie moiinuaines top.
Where roaring beares and fauage lions are ;
Or flint me nightly in a charnell-houfe.
With reckie fhankes, and yeolow chaples fculls :
Or lay me in tombe with one new dead :
Things that to heare them namde haue made me tremble
And I will doo it without feare or doubt.
To keep my felfe a falthfull vnflaind wife.
To my deere lord, my deereft Romeo,
Fr. Hold Iuliet, hie thee home, get thee to bed.
Let not thy nurfe lye with thee in thy chamber:
And when thou art alone, take thou this violl.
And this diftilled liquor drinke thou off :
When prefently through all thy veynes Ihall run
A dull and heauie flumbcr, which fhall feaxe
Each vitall fpirit : for no pulfe fliall keepe
His naturall progrefte, but furceafe to beate :
No flgne of breath fhall teftifle thou liuft.
And in this borrowed likenes of ft riinke death.
Thou (halt remaine full two and fortie houres.
And when thou art laid in thy kindreds vault,
The most excellent Tragedie
He fend in haft to Mantua to thy lord,
And he (hall come and take thee from thy grauc,
JuL Frier I goe, be fure thou fend for my deare Romeo.
Exeunt.
Enter olde Capolet, hh 'wifey Nurfe, and fervingman. .
Capo. Where are you firra ?
Ser. Heere forfooth.
Capo, Goe, prouide me twentle cunning cookes.
Ser. I warrant you fir, let me alone for that, He knowc
them by licking their fingers.
Capo. How canft thou know them fo ?
Ser. Ah fir, tis an ill cooke cannot licke his owne fingers.
Capo. Well get you gone.
Exit feruingman.
But wheres this head-ftrong ?
Moth. Shees gone (my lord) to frier Laurence cell
To be confeft.
Capo. Ah, he may hap to doo fome good of her,
A headftrong felfewild hailotrie it is.
Enter luliet.
Moth. See here (he commeth from confeflion.
Capo. How now my head-ftrong, where haue you bin gad-
ding ?
lul. Where I haue learned to repent the fm
Of froward wilfull oppofition
Gainft you and your bchefts, and am enioynd
By holy Laurence to fall proftrate here,
And'Craue remiflion of fo fcule a fa61:.
She kneeles downe.
fMoth. Why thats well fald.
Capo. Now before God this holy reuerent frier
All
OF Romeo and Iuliet.
All our whole citie is much bound vnto.
Goe tell the countie prefently of this,
For I will haue this knot knit vp to morrow.
Jul. Nurfe, will you go with me to my clofet.
To fort fuch things as fhall be requifite
Againft to morrrow,
Moth, I pree thee do, good nurfe goe in with her,
Helpe her to fort tyres, rebatoes, chaines.
And I will come vnto you prefently,
Nur. Come fweet hart, fhall we goe :
* InL I pree thee let vs.
Exeunt Nurfe a7id Iuliet.
Moth. Me thinks on Thurfday would be time enough.
Capo. I fay I will haue this difpatcht to morrow,
Goe one and certefie the count thereof.
Moth. I pray my lord, let it be Thurfday.
Capo. I fay to morrow while fhees in the mood.
Moth. We fhall be fhort in our prouifion.
Capo. Let me alone for that, goe get you in.
Now before God my heart is palling light,
To fee her thus conformed to our will. Exeunt,
Enter Nurfe, Iuliet,
Nur. Come, come, what need you anie thing elfe ?
IiiL Nothing good nurfe, but leaue me to my felfe :
For I doo meane to lye alone to night.
Nur. Well theres a cleane fmocke vnder your pillow, and
fo good night. Exit.
Enter Mother.
, Moth. What are you bufie, doo you need my helpe ?
lul. No madame, I defire to lye alone.
For I haue manie things to thinke vpon.
Moth,
The most excellent Tracedie
Moth. Well then good night, be ftirring
The countie will be earlie here to morrow. Exit,
lul. Farewell, God knowes when wee (hall meete againe.
Ah, I doo take a fearfull thing in hand.
What if this potion fliould not worke at all,
^Muft I of force be married to the countic ?
This (hall forbid it. Knife, lye thou there.
What if the frier (liould giue me this drinkc
To poyfon mce, for fcare I fiioulJ difclofe
Our former marriage ? Ah, I wrong him much, .
He is a holy and religious man :
I will not entertaine fo bad a thought.
What if I fhould be flifled in the toomb ?
Awake an houre before the appointed time :
Ah then I feare I (liall be lunaticke :
And playing with my dead forefathers bones,
Dafn out my franticke braines. Me thinkes I fee
My cofm Tybalt weltring in his bloud.
Seeking for Romeo : fray Tybalt (fay.
Romeo I come, this doe I drinke to thee.
She f ah vpon her bed ’within the curtaines.
Enter Nurfe with hearbsj Mother.
Moth' Thats well faid nurfe, fet all in redines.
The countie will be heere immediatly.
E7iter Oldeman.
^ Cap. Make had, make had, for it is almod day.
The curfewe bell hath rung, t’is foure a clockc,
Looke to your bakt meates good Angelica.
Niir. Goe get you to .bed you cotqueane. I faith t-ou will
be ficke a none.
OF Romeo and Iuliet;
Cap. I warrant thee nurfe I haue ere now watcht all night,
and haue taken no harme at all.
Moth. I you haue beene a moufe hunt in your time.
Enter Seruingman 'luith kgs and coales.
Cap. Aielous hood, ielous hood : How now firra ?
What haue you there ?
Ser. Forfooth logs.
Cap. Goe, goe choofe dryer. Will will tell thee where thou
/halt fetch them.
Ser. Nay I warrant let me alone, I haue a heade I troe to
choofe a log. Exit.
Cap. Well goe thy way, thou (halt be logger head.
Come, come, make haft call vp your daughter.
The countie will be heere with muficke ftraight.
Gods me hees come, nurfe call vp my daughter.
Nur. Goe, get you gone. What lambe, what lady birde >
faft I warrant. What Iuliet P well, let the county take you
in your bed : yee fleepe for a w'^eeke now, but the next night,
the countie Paris hath fet vp his reft that you fhal reft but
little. What lambe I fay, faft ftill : what lady, loue, what
bride, what Juliet P Gods me how found fhe fleeps ? Nay
then I fee I muft wake you indeed. Whats heere, laide on
your bed, dreft in your cloathes and down, ah me, alack the
day, fome aqua vits hoe.
Enter Mother.
Moth. How now whats the matter ?
Nur. Alack the day, ftiees dead, fnees dead, ftiees dead.
Moth. Accurft, vnhappy, miferable time.
Enter Oldeman.
Cap. Come, come, make haft, wheres my daughter ?
Moth. Ah. fliees dead, ftiees dead.
The most excellent Tragedie
Cap. Stay, let me fee, all pale and wan.
Accurfed time, vnfortunate olde man.
Enter Fryer and Paris.
Par. What Is the bride ready to goe to church?
Cap. Ready to goe, but neuer to returne.
O fonne the night before thy wedding day,
Hath death laine with thy bride, flower as (he is,
Deflowerd by him, fee, where (he lyes.
Death is my fonne in law, to him I giue all that I hauc.
Par. Haue l thought long to fee this mornings face.
And doth it now prefent fuch prodegies ?
Accurfl:, vnhappy, miferable man,
Forlorne, forfaken, deftitute I am :
Borne to the world to be a flaue in It.
Diflrefl:, remediles, and vnfortunate.
O heauens, O nature, wherefore did you make me.
To liue fo vile, fo wretched as I (hall.
Cap. O heere (he lies that was our hope, our ioy,
And being dead, dead forrow nips vs all.
All at once cry out and wring their hands*
All cry. And all our ioy, and all our hope is dead.
Dead, lofl:, undone, abfented, wholly fled.
Cap. Cruel, vniufr, impartlall deflinies.
Why to this day haue you preferu’d my life ?
To fee my hope, my flay, my ioy, my life,
Depriude of fence, of life, of all by death,
Cruell, vniufl, impartiall deflinies.
Cap. O fad fac’d forrow map of mifery.
Why this fad time haue I defird to fee.
This day, this vniufl, this impartiall day
Wherein ( hop’d to fee my comfort full.
To be depriude by fuddaine. deflinie.
Moth,
OF Romeo and Iuliet;
Moth, ' O woe, alacke, diftreft, why fhould I liue ?
To fee this day, this miferable day.
Alacke the time that euer I was borne.
To be partaker of this deftinie.
Alacke the day, alacke and welladay.
Fr. O peace for lhame, if not for charity.
Your daughter Hues in peace and happines.
And it is vaine to wifh it otherwife.
Come fticke your rofemary in this dead coarfe.
And as the cuftome of our country is.
In all her beft and fumptuous ornaments,
Conuay her where her anceftors lie tomb’d.
Cap. Let it be fo, come wofull forrow mates.
Let vs together tafte this bitter fate.
T'hey all but the nurfe goe foorth, cajling rofemary on her and
Jhutting the curtens.
Enter Mufitions,
Nur. Put vp, put vp, this is a wofull cafe. Exit,
1. 1 by my troth mlftreflTe is it, it had need be mended.
Enter feridngman,
Ser. Alack alack what (hal I doe, come fidlers play me fome
mery dumpe.
I . A fir, this is no time to play.
Ser. You will not then ?
I . No marry will wee.
Ser. Then will I giue it you, and foundly to.
I . What will you giue vs ?
Ser. The fidler. He re you. He fa you. He fol you.
I. If you re vs and fa vs, we will note you.
Ser. I will put vp my iron dagger, and beate you with my
wodden wit. . Come on Simon found pot. He pofe you.
VoL. IV. E 1. Lets
The most excellent Tragedie
I . Lets heare.
Ser. When griping griefe the heart doth wound,
And dolefull dumps the ininde opprefle :
Then mufique with her filuer found.
Why filuer found ? Why filuer found ?
1. I thinke becaufe muficke hath a fweet found.
Ser. Pretie, what fay you Mathe'w minikine ^
2. I thinke becaufe mufitions found for filuei
Ser. Prettie too : come, what fay you ?
3. I fay nothing.
Ser. I thinke fo, He fpeake for you becaufe you are the
finger. I faye filuer found, becaufe fuch fellowes as you haue
fildome golde for founding. Farewell fidlers, farewell. Exit.
I . Farewell and be hangd : come lets goe. Exeunt^
Enter Romeo.
Rom. If I may trufl the flattering eye of fleepe.
My dreame prefagde fome good euent to come,
My bofome lord fits chearfull in his throne.
And I am comforted with plealing dreames.
Methought I was this night alreadie dead :
(Strange dreames that giue a dead man leaue to thinke)
And that my ladie luliet came to me,
And breath d fuch life with kKfes in my lips.
That I reuiude and was an emperour.
Enter Balthafar his man booted*
Newes from Verona. How now Balthafar,
How doth my ladie ? Is my father well ?
How feres my Juliet P that I aflce againe ;
If fhe be well, then nothing can be ill.
Balt. Then nothing can be ill, for flie is well.
Her bodie fleepes in Capcls monument.
And
1
OF Romeo and IulieTc
And her inimortall parts with angels dwell.
Pardon me fir, that am the meffenger of fuch bad tidings,
Rom. Is it euen fo I then I defie my flarres.
Goe get me Incke and paper, hyre poll horfe,
I will not ftay in Mantua to night.
Balt. Pardon me fir, I will not leaue you thus,
Your lookes are dangerous and full of feare :
I dare not, nor I will not leaue you yet.
Rom. Doo as I bid thee, get me incke and paper,
And hyre thofc horfe : flay not I fay.
Exit Balthafar.
Well lulietj I will lye with thee to nijghf.
Lets fee for meanes. As I doo remember
Here dwells a pothecarie whom oft I noted
As I paft by, whofe needie fhop is finfll
With beggerly accounts of emptie boxes :
And in the fame an Aligarta hangs,
Olde endes of packthred, and cakes of rofes,
Are thinly flrewed to make vp a Ihow.
Him as I noted, thus with my felfe I thought ;
And if a man fhould need a poyfon now,
(Whofe prefent fale is death in Mantua )
Here he might buy it. This thought of mine
Did but forerunne my need : and here about he dwels^
Being holiday the beggers fhop is fhut.
What ho apcthecarie, come forth I fay.
Enter Apothecarie.-
Af)0. Who calls, what would you fir ?
Rom. Heeres twentie duckates,
Giue me a dram of fome fuch fpceding geere.
As will difpatch the wearie takers life,
E 2
As
The most excellent Tragedie
As fuddenly as powder being fierd
From forth a cannons mouth.
yipo. Such drugs I haue I muft of force confefTe,
But yet the law is death to thqfe that fell them.
Rovi. Art thou fo bare and full of pouertle,
And dooft thou feare to violate the law ?
The law is not thy frend, nor the lawes frend.
And therefore make no confcience of the law ;
Vpon thy backe hangs ragged miferie.
And ftarued famine dwellcth in thy cheekes.
Jpo. My pouertie but not my will confents.
I pay thy pouertie, but not thy will.
Wpo. Hold take you this, and put it in anic liquid thing
you will, and it will feme had you the hues of twenty men.
Rem. Hold, take this gold, worfe poyfon to mens foules
Than this which thou hafl: gluen me. Goe hye thee hence,
Goe buy the cloathes, and get thee into flefh.
Come cordiall and not poyfon, goe with mee
To IiiUets grane : for there mvll I vfe thee. Exeunt,
Enter Frier lohn.
John, What frier Laiirencey brother, ho ?
Laur, This fame Ihould be the voyce of frier lohn.
What newes from Mantua, what will Romeo come ?
John, Going to feeke a barefoote brother out.
One of our order to aflbeiate mee.
Here in this cittie vifiting the fick,
Whereas the infeffious peflilence remaind :
And being by the fearchers of the towne
Found and examinde, we were both fliut vp,
Laur, Who bare my letters then to Romeo ?
John, I haue them flill, and here they are.
Laur, Now by my holy order.
The letters were not nice, but of great weight.
Goe
OF Romeo and Iuliet.
Goe get thee hence, and get me prefently
A fpade and mattocke.
lohn. Well I will prefently go fetch thee them. Exlt^
Laur, Now muft I to the monument alone,
Lead that the ladie (hould before I come
Be wakde from fleepe. I will hye
To free her from that tomb of mlferle. Exit,
Enter countie Paris and his Page with flowers and fweete
water.
Par. Put out the torch, and lye thee all along
Vnder this Ew-tree, keeping thine eare clofe to the hollow
ground.
And if thou heare one tread within this churchyard,
Staight glue me notice.
Boy. I will my lord.
Paris Jlrewes the tomb with flowers.
Par. Sweet flower, with flowers I flrow thy bridale bed :
Sweete tombe that in thy circuite dod containe,
The perfe<d modell of eternitie :
Faire Iidiet that with angells dod remaine,
Accept this latcd fauour at my hands.
That lining honourd thee, and being dead
With funerall praifes doo adorne thy tombe.
Boy whijiles and calls. My lord.
Enter Romeo and Balthafar, with a torch ^ a mattocke ^ and a
crow of yron.
Par. The boy glues warning, fomethlng doth approach.
What curfed foote wanders this was to night,
To day my obfequies and trueloues rites ?
What with a torch, muffle me night a while. *
The most excellent Tragedie
Rem. Glue me this mattocke, and this wrentching iron^
And take thefe letters, early in the morning.
See thou deiiuer them to my lord and father.
So get thee gone and trouble me no more.
Why I defeend into this bed of death.
Is partly to behold my ladies face,
But chiefly to take from her dead finger,
A precious ring which 1 muff vfe
In deare imployment : but if thou wilt flay,
Further to prie in what I vndertake.
By heauen He teare thee ioynt by ioynt,
And flrewe thys hungry churchyard with thy Urns.
The time and my intents are fauage, wilde.
Balt. Well, He be gone and not trouble you.
Rom. So lhalt thou win my fauour, take thou this,
Commend me to my father, farwell good fellow.
Balt. Yet for all this will I not part from hence.
Romeo opens the tombe.
Rom. Thou detefl.able maw, thou womb of death,
Gorde with the dearefl morfell of the earth.
Thus I enforce thy rotten iawes to ope.
Par. This is that banilht haughtie Mountagiie,
That murderd my loues cofen, I will apprehend him*
Stop thy vnhallowed toyle vile Mountague.
Can vengeance be purfued further then death ?
I doe attach thee as a fellon heere.
The law condemnes thee, therefore thou mufl dye.
Rom. I mufl indeed, and therefore came I hither,
Good youth be gone, tempt not a defperate man.
Heape not another finne vpon my head
By flieding of thy bloud, I doe protefl
For
OF Romeo and Iuliet.
I loue thee better then I loue my felfe :
For I come hyther armde agalnft my felfe.
Par. I doe defie thy coniurations :
And doe attach thee as a fellon heere.
Rom. What dofl thou tempt me, then haue at thee boy.
'They fight.
Boy. O lord they fight, I will goe call the watch.
Par. Ah I am flaine, if thou be mercifull
Open the tombe, lay me with Iuliet.
Rom. Yfaith I will, let me perufe this face,
Mercutios kinfman, noble county Paris ?■
What faid my man, when my betoffed foule
' Did not regard him as we paft along.
Did he not fay Paris fhould haue maried
Iuliet P eyther he faid fo, or I dreamd it fo.
But I will fatisfie thy lafl: requeft.
For thou haft prizd thy loue aboue thy life.
Death lye thou there, by a dead man interd.
How oft haue many at the houre of death
Beene blith and pleafant ? which their keepers call
A lightning before death But how may I
Call this a lightning. Ah deare Iuliet,
How well thy beauty doth become this graue ?
O I beleeue that vnfubftanciall death.
Is amorous, and doth court my loue.
Therefore will I, O heere, O euer heere.
Set vp my euerlafting reft
With wormes, that are thy chambermayds.
Come defperate pilot now at once runne on
The daftiing rockes thy fea-ficke weary barge.
Heers to my loue. O true apothecary :
Thy drugs are fwift : thus with a kifte I dye.
E 4
Falls.
Enter
The most excellent Tragedie
Enter Fryer with a lanthorne»
How oft to night haue thefe my aged feete
Stumbled at graues as I did pafTe along.
Whofe there ?
Man. A frend and one that knowes j^ou well.
Fr, Who is it that conforts fo late the dead.
What light is yon ? if I be not deceiued.
Me thinkes it burnes in Capcls monument ?
Man. It doth fo holy fir, and there is one
That loues you dearly.
Fr. Who is it ?
Man. Romeo.
Fr. How long hath he beene there ?
Man. Full halfe an houre and more,
Fr. Goe with me thether.
Man. 1 dare not fir, he knowes not I am heere :
On paine of death he chargde me to be gone.
And not for to diflurbe him in his enterprize.
Fr. Then muft I goe : my minde prefageth ill.
Fryti* /loops and lookes on the blood and weapons.
What bloud is this that flaines the entrance
Of this marble flony monument ?
What meanes thefe maiflerles and goory weapons ?
Ah me I doubt, whofe heere ? what Romeo dead?
Who and Paris too ? what vnluckie houre
Is acceflary to fo foule a fmne ?
luliet rifes.
The lady flurres.
lul. Ah comfortable fryer.
OF Romeo aud Iuliet.'
I doe remember well where I fliould be,
And what we talkt of ? but yet I cannot fee
Him for whofe fake I vndertooke this hazard.
Fr, Lady come foorth, I heare fome noife at hand.
We fliall be taken, Paris he is flaine.
And Romeo dead : and if we heere be tane
We (hall be thought to be as acceflarie.
I will prouide for you in fome clofe nunery. .
lul. Ah leaue me, leaue me, I will not from hence.
Fr. I heare fome noife, I dare not flay, come, come
lul. Goe get thee gone.
Whats heere a cup clofde in my loners hands ?
Ah churle drinke all, and leaue no drop for me.
Enter Watch.
Watch. This way, this way.
lul. I, noife ? then mull I be refolute.
O happy dagger thou (halt end my feare,
Reft in my bofome, thus I come to thee.
She Jiahs herfelfe and folks .
Enter Watch,
Cap. Come looke about, what weapons haue we heere ?
See frends where Iuliet two daies buried.
New bleeding wounded, fearch and fee who’s neare.
Attach and bring them to vs prefeatly.
Enter one 'with the Fryer*
I . Captalne heers a fryer with tooles about him,
Fitte to ope a tombe.
Cap. A gr«at fufpition, keep him fafe.
UnUt
The most excellent Tragedie
Enter one 'with Romeos man,
I . Heeres Romeos man.
Capt. Keepe him to be examinde.
Enter Prince 'with others.
Prin. What early mifchiefe calls vs vp fo foone.
Capt. O noble prince, fee here
Where Juliet that hath lyen intoombd two dayes,
Warme and frefli bleeding, Romeo and countie Paris
Likewife newly flaine.
Prin. Search feeke about to finde the murderers.
Enter olde Capolet and his 'wife.
Capo. What rumor’s this that is fo early vp ?
Moth. The people in theftreetes crie Romeo ^
And fome on luliet : as if they alone
Had been the caufe of fuch a mutinie.
Capo. See wife, this dagger hath miRooke :
For (loe) the backe is emptie of yong Mountague,
And it is Rieathed in our daughters breaft.
' V
Enter olde Montague.
Pjin, Come Mountague, for thou art early vp.
To fee thy fonne and heire more early downe.
Mount. Dread fouereigne, my wife is dead to night.
And yong Benuolio is deceafed too :
What further mifchiefe can there yet be found ?
Prin. Firft come and fee, then fpeake.
Mount. O thou vntaught, what manners is in this
To preffe before thy father to a graue.
OF Romeo and Iuliet.
Prin, Come feale your mouthes of outrage for a while,
And let vs feeke to fjnde the authors out
Of fuch a hainous and feld feene mlfchaunce.
Bring forth the parties in fufpicion.
Fr. I am the greatefl: able to doo leafl.
Moft worthle prince, heare me but fpeake the truth.
And He informe you how thefe things fell our.
Juliet here flaine was married to that Romeo^
Without her fathers or her mothers grant :
The nurfe was priuie to the marriage.
The balefull day of this vnhappie marriage,
Was Tybalts doomefday : for which Roineo
Was baniflied from hence to Mantua,
He gone, her father fought by foule conHraint
To marrie her to Paris : but her foule
(Loathing a fecond contract) did refufe
To giue confent ; and therefore did fhe vrge me
Either to finde a meanes fhe might auoyd
What fo her father fought to force her too :
Or els all defperately fhe threatned
Euen in my prefence to difpatch her felfe.
Then did I giue her, (tutord by mine arte)
A potion that fhould make her feeme as dead ;
And told her that I would with all poll fpeed
Send hence to Mantua for her RomeOy
That he might come and take her from the toombe.
But he that had my letters (frier John )
Seeking a brother to afTociate him.
Whereas the ficke infeflion remaind.
Was flayed by the fearchers of the towne.
But Romeo vnderflanding by his man.
That Juliet was deceafde, returnde in poll
Vnto Verona for to fee his loue,
What
I
The most excellent Tragedie
What after happened touching Paris death, .
Or Romeos is to me vnknowne at all.
But when I came to take the kdy hence,
I found them dead, and (he awakt from fleep :
Whom faine I would haue taken from the tombe.
Which (he refufed feeing Romeo dead.
Anone I heard the watch and then I fled.
What after happened I am ignorant of.
And if in this ought haue raifearied.
By me, or by my meanes let my olde life
Be facrified fome houre before his time.
To the moft flrickefl: rigor of the law.
Pry. We Aill haue knowne thee for a holy man,
Wheres Romeos man, what can he fay in this ?
Balth. I brought my maifler word that fhee was dead.
And then he poafted ftraight from Mantiidy
Vnto this toombe. Thefe letters he^eliuered me.
Charging me early glue them to his father.
Prin. Lets fee the letters, I will read them ouer.
Where is the counties boy that calld the watch ?
Boy. I brought my mafter vnto lulicts graue.
But one approaching, flraight I calld my mafter.
At lall: they fought, I ran to call the watch.
And this is all that I can fay or know.
Prin. Thefe letters doo make good the fryers wordes.
Come Capolet, and come olde Mountagewe.
Where are thefe enemies \ fee what hate hath done,
Cap. Come brother Mountague giue me thy hand,
There is my daughters dowry t for now no more
Can I beflowe on her, thats all I haue.
Moun. But I will giue them more, I will erefl
Her flatue of pure goldc :
That Verona by that name is knowne.
There
OF Romeo and Iuliet*
There fhall no ftatue of fuch price be fet.
As that of Romeos loued luliet.
Cap. As rich fhall Romeo by his lady lie,
Poore facrifices to our enmitie.
Prin. A gloomie peace this day doth with it bring/
Come, let vs hence,
To haue'more talke of thefe fad things.
Some fhall be pardoned and fome punifhed ;
For nere was heard a florie of more woe.
Than this of luUet and her Romeo.
FINIS.
The moft Excellent and. Lamentable
T R A G E D I E,
O F
ROMEO and JULIET.
As it hath beene fundrie Times publiquely adled.
By the Kings Malefties Seruants at the Globe.
Newly correded, augmented, and amended.
Printed for Iohn Smethwick, and are to be fold at his
Shop in Saint Dunftanes Church-yard, in Fleeteftreete vn-
der the DyalL 1 609.
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CHORUS.
WO houfholds both alike in dignity,
X (In faire Verona, where we lay our fcene)
From auncient grudge breake to new mutinie.
Where ciuill bloud makes ciuill hands vndeane.
From forth the fatall loynes of thefe two foes,
A paire of ilarre-crofl: louers take their life :
Whofe mifaduentur’d pittious ouerthrowes.
Doth with their death bury their parents flrife.
The feareful pafTage of their death-markt loue.
And the continuance of their parents rage,
Which but their childrens end nought could remoue :
Is now the two houres traficque of our ftage.
The which if you with patient eares attend.
What here fhal milTe, our toile, fhall ftriue to mend.
VoL. IV.
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The Moft Excellent and Lamentable
T R A G E D I E
O F
ROMEOandIVLIET.
Enter Sampfoii and Gregorie, -with /words and bucklers, of the
hoiife of Capulet.
Sampfon,
Gregorie, on my word week not carry coles.
Greg. No, for then we fliould be collyers.
Samp. I meane, and we be in choUer, week
draw.
Greg. I while you liue, draw your necke out of choller :*
Samp. I ftrike quickly being moued.
Greg. But thou art not quickly moued to Rrike.
Samp. A dog of the houfe of Mountague moues me.
Greg. To moue is to Rirre, and to be valiant, is to Rand.
Therefore if thou art moued thou runfl away.
Samp. A dog of that houfe fhall moue me to Rand.
I will take the wall of any man or maide of Mountagxies.
Gregs
* the collar,
F2
The most lamentable Tragedie
Greg. That ftiewes thee a weake flaue, for the weakefl goes
to the wall.
Samp. Tls true, and therefore women being the weaker
vefTcls are euer thruft to the wall : therefore I will pufh Moun-
t agues men from the wall, and thrufl his maides to the wall.
Cre. The quarrell is betweene our mafters, and vs their men.
Samp. Tis all one I will fhew my felfe a tyrant, when I
haue fought with the men, I will be ciuill f with the maides, I
will cut off their heads.
Crego. The heades of the maids.
Samp. I the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads, take
it in what fence thou wilt.
Crego. They muff take it * fenfe, that feele it.
Samp. Me they lhall feele while I am able to ftand, and tis
knowne I am a pretty p'eece of flefh.
Crego. Tis well thou art not fifh, if thou hadH:, thou hadjfl
been poore John : draw thy toole here comes of the houfe of
Nount agues.
Enter two ether feruingmen.
Samp. My naked weapon is out, quarrell, I will back
thee.
• Cre. How, turne thy backe and runne ;
Samp. Feare me not.
Cre. No marrie, I feare thee.
Samp. Let vs take the law of our fides, let them begin.
Gre. I will frown as I pafle by, and let them take it as they
lift.
Samp. Nay as they dare, I wil bite my thumb at them,
which is a difgrace to them if they beare it.
j^bra. Doe you bite your thumb at vs fir ?
Samp. I doe bite my thumb fir.
y^bra. Doe you bite your thumb at vs fir ?
f cruel.
f it ir.
Samp.
OF Romeo and Iuliet*
Samp. Is the law of our fide if I fay I ?
Gre. No.
Samp. No fir, I doe not bite my thumbe at you fir, but I
bite my thumbe fir.
Gre. Doe you quarrell fir ?
y^/>ra. Quarrell fir, no lir.
Sa. But if you doe fir, I am for you, I ferue as good a ma
as you.
y^l^ra. No better.
Samp. Well fir.
Enter Benuolio.
Gre. “Say better, here comes one of my maifters kinsmen^
Samp. Yes better fir.
Abra. You lie.
Samp. Draw if you be men, Gregorie, remember thy viajh^
ing f blowe.
They fight.
Benii. Part fooles, put vp your fwords, you know not what
you do.
Enter Tibalt.
Tibalt. What art thou drawne among thefe hartlefle hinds
turne thee Benuolio, look vpon thy death.
Ben. I doe but keepe the peace, put vp thy fword,
or mannage it to part thefe men with me.
Tib. What drawne and talke of peace ? I hate the word,
as I hate hell, all Moiintagiies and thee :
Haue at the coward.
Enter three or foure citizens with clubs or partyfons.
Ofii. Clubs, billes and partifons, flrike, beate them downs
Downe with the Capulets, downe with the Mount agues.
Xfwapr.g.
F3
Enter
Thr most lamentable Tragedie
Enter old Capulct in his gowne, and his wife.
Capu. What noyfe is this ? giue me my long fword hoc.
Wife. A crowch, a crovvch, why call you for a fword ?
Cap. My fword I fay, old Momtague is come,
And florifhes his blade in fpight of me.
Enter aide Mountague and his wife.
Motin. Thou villaine Capidejy hold me not, let me go.
M. wife. 2. Thou fhalt not flir one foote to feeke a foe.
Enter prince Efkales, with his traine.
Prince. Rebellious fubie(fts enemies to peace,
Prophanersof this nelghbour-ftained Reele,
Will they not heare ? what ho, you men, you hearts :
That quench the fire of your pernicious rage,
With purple fountaines irtuing from your veines :
On paine of torture from thofe bloudy hands,
Throw your mirtempered weapons to the ground,
And heare the fentence of your moued prince.
Three ciuill brawles bred of an ayrie word.
By thee old Capulet and Mountague y
Haue thrice dirturbde the quiet of our rtreets.
And made Veronas auncient citizens.
Cart by their graue befeeming ornaments.
To wield old partizans, in hands as old,
Cancred with peace, to part your cancred hate.
If euer you dirturbe our rtreets againe.
Your hues fhall pay the forfeit of the peace.
For this time all the rert depart away :
You Capulet fhall goe along with me.
And Mountague come you this afternoone,
To
OF Romeo and Iuliet;
To know our fathers f plefure in this cafe :
To old Free-towne our common iudgment place :
Once more on paine of death, all men depart. Exeunt,
Moun. Who fet this auncient quarrell new abroach ?
Speake nephew, were you by, when it began ?
Ben, Here were the feruants of your aduerfarie
And yours clofe fighting ere I did approach,
I drew to part them, in the infiant came
The fiery Tibalt, with his fword prepard.
Which as he breath’d defiance to my eares.
He fwong about his head and cut the windes.
Who nothing hurt withall, hifi: him in fcorne :
While we were enterchanging thrufts and blowes.
Came more and more, and fought on part and part.
Till the prince came, who parted either part.
Wife. O where is Romeo, faw you him to day?
Right glad am I, he was not at this fray.
Ben, Madam, an houre before the worlhipt fun,
Peerde forth the golden window of the eaft,
A troubled mind draue me to walke abroad.
Where vnderneath the groue of fyramour.
That wefiward rooteth from this city fide ;
So early walking did I fee your fonn?,
Towards him I made, but he was ware of me.
And fi:ole into the couert of the wood,
I meafuring his afFe6lions by my owne.
Which then mofl fought, where moil: might not be found :
Being one too many by my weary felfe,
Purfued my honour J, not purfuing his,'
And gladly fiiunned, who gladly fled from me. '
Mount, Many a morning hath he there beene feene.
With teares augmenting the frefh mornings deaw,
*1^ further. ij; humour,
F 4 Adding
The most lamentable Tragedie
Adding to cloudes, more cloudes with his deepe fighes,
But all fofoone as the all cheering funne,
Should in the fartheft eaft begin to draw,
The Ihadie curtaines from Auroras bed,
Away from light (leaks home my heauy fonnc.
And priuate in his chamber pennes himfelfe.
Shuts vp his windowes, lockes faire day-light out,
And makes himfelfe an artificial! night,
• Blacke and portcndous mufl this humor proue,
Vnlefle good counfell may the caufe remoue.
Ben, My noble vncle doe you know the caufe ?
Moun. I neither know it, nor can learneof him.
Ben, Haue you importunde jbim by any meanes I
Moun. Both by my felfe and many other friends.
But he his own affe(flions counfeller.
Is to himfelfe (I will not fay how true)
But to himfelfe fo fccret and fo clofe.
So farre from founding and difeouery.
As is the bud bit with an enuious worme,
Ere he can fpread his fweetc leaues to the ayre,
Or dedicate his beauty to the fame.
Could we but learue from whence his forrowes grow.
We would as willingly give cure, as know.
Enter Romeo.
Benu. See where he comes, fo plcafe you (lep afide.
He know his greeuance or be much denide.
Moun. I would thou wert fo happy by thy Hay,
To heare true fhrift, come madam lets away. Exeunt,
Benuol. Good morrow coufiii.
Romeo. Is the day fo young ?
Ben. Bur new firooke nine.
Romeo. Ay me fad houres feeme long :
Was that my father that went hence fo fad ?
• Ben,
OF Romeo and Iuliet.
Ben. It was : what fadnes lengthens Romeos houres ?
Ro. Not hauing that, which hauing, makes them Ihort.
Ben. In lone.
Romeo. Ont.
Ben. Of lone.
Rom. Out of her fauour where I am in loue.
Ben. Alas that loue fo gentle in his view,
Should be fo tyriinnous and rough in proofe.
Romeo. Alas that loue, whofe view is muffled flill.
Should without eyes, fee pathwaies to his will :
Where fhall we dine ? O me, what fray was here ?
Yet tell me not, for I haue heard it all :
Heres much to doe with hate, but more with loue.
Why then O brawling loue, O louing hate,
O any thing of nothing fiifl created :
O heauie lightneffe, ferious vanity,
Mifhapen Chaos of welfeeing formes,
Feather of lead, bright fmoke, cold fier, ficke health.
Still waking fleepe, that is not what it is.
This loue feele I, that feele no loue in this,
DoefI: thou not laugh ?
Ben. No coze, I rather weepe.
Rom. Good heart at what ?
Ben. At thy good harts opprelTion.
Romeo. Why fuch is loues tranfgrefrion.
Griefes of mine owne lie heauie in my breafl,
Which thou wilt propagate to haue it preafl, ,
With more of thine, this loue that thou hafl: fhowncv
Doth ad more griefe, to too much of mine owne.
Loue is a fmoke made with the fume of fighes,
Being purgd, a fire fparkling in loners eyes.
Being vext, a fea nouriiht with louing teares.
What is it elfe ? A madneffe, moft difcreet,
The most lamentable Tracedie
A choking gall, and a preferuing fweet :
Farewell my coze.
Ben. Soft I will goe along.
And if you leaue me fo, you doe me wrohg.
Rom. Tut I haue loft my felfe, I am not here.
This is not -RomeOy hees fome other where.
Ben. Tell me in fadneffe, who is that you loue ?
Rom. What fliall I grone and tell thee ?
Ben. Grone, why no : but fadly tell me who.
Rom. A* ficke man in fadneffe makes f his will :
A word ill vrgd to one that is fo ill :
In fadneffe cozin, I do loue a woman.
Ben. I aymd fo ne'are, when I fuppofde you lou’d.
Rom. A right good marke man, and fliee’s faire I loue,
Ben. A right fiire marke faire coze is fooneft hit.
Romeo. Well in that hit you miffe, fheel not be hit
With Cupids arrow, fhe hath Dians wit :
And in flrong proofe of chaflitie well arrnd.
From loues weake childifh bow fhe hues vneharmd.
Shee will not flay the fege of loning tearmes.
Nor bide th’ incounter of affailing eyes.
Nor ope her lap to faincSt-feducing gold,
O fhe is rich in beautie, onely poore.
That when fhe ‘dies, with beautie ‘dies her ffore.
Ben. Then fhe hath fworne, that fhe will flill hue chafl?
Rom. She hath, and in that fparing, make huge waft :
For beauty fteru’d with her feuerity,
Cuts beauty off from all pofteritie.
She is too faire, too wife, wifely too faire.
To merit bliffe by making me difpaire :
She hath forfwcrne to loue, and in that vow.
Do I liue dead, that liue to tell it now.
Ben. Be rulde by me, forget to thinke of her.
Rem. 0 teach me how I fhould forget to thinke.
* Bid a, make.
Roi
OF Romeo and Iuliet,
Ro. By giulng liberty vnto thine eyes.
Examine other beauties.
Ro. Tis the way to call hers (exquifit) in queftlon more,
Thefe happy malkes that kilTe faire ladies browes,
Being blacke, puts vs in mind they hide the faire :
He that is flrooken blind, cannot forget
The precious treafure of his eye-fight loft.
Shew me a miftrefle that is palTuig faire,
What doth her beauty ferue but as a note.
Where I may read who paft that pafting faire :
Farewell thou canft not teach me to forget,
Ben* He pay that dodlrine, or elfe die in debt. Exeunt*
Enter Capulet, countie Paris, and the Clowne.
Cap. Monntague f is bound as well as I,
In penalty alike, and tis not hard I thinke.
For men fo old as wee to keepe the peace.
Par* Of honourable reckoning are you both.
And pittie tis you liu’d at ods fo long ;
But now my lord, what fay you to my fute ?
Capu. But faying ore what 1 haue faid before.
My child is yet a ftranger in the world,
Shee hath not feene the change of fourteene yeares.
Let two more fummers wither in 'their pride
Ere we may thinke her ripe to be a bride.
Pari* Younger then fhe, are happy mothers made.
Capu. And too foone mard are thofe fo early made :
Earth hath fwallowed all my hopes but flie,
Shees * the hopefull lady of my earth.
But wooe her gentle Paris, get her heart.
My will to her confent, is but a part.
And
d And Mountagus*
* She is*
The most lamentable Tragedie
And flie agree, within her fcope of choife
Lyes my confcnt, and faire according voice :
This night I hold, an old accuftomd feafl.
Whereto I haue inuited many a guefl,-
Such as I loue, and you among the ftorc.
One more, mon: welcome makes my number more :
At my poore houfe, looke to behold this night.
Earth treading flarres, that make darke heauen light.
Such comfort as do lufty young men feele.
When well appareld Jprill on the heele
Of limping winter treads, euen fuch delight
Among fredi fennell buds fhall you this night
Inherit at my houfe, heare all, all fee :
And like her moff, whofe merit mofl: fhall be :
Which 07ie -f more veiw of many, mine being one.
May fland in number though in reckning none.
Come goe with me, goe firrah trudge about.
Through faire Verona, find thofe perfons out,
Whofe names are written there, and to them fay.
My houfe and welcome, on their pleafure fiay. Exit,
Ser. Find them out whofe names are written. Here it is
written, that the flioo-maker fliould meddle with his yard,
and the tayler with his lafi:,- the fifher with his penfill, and
the painter with his nets. But I am fent to find thofe perfons
whofe names are here writ, and can neuer find wliat names
the writing perfon hath here writ, (I mufi: to the learned) in
good time
Enter Benuolio, and Romeo.
Ben, Tut man one fire burnes out an others burning.
One paine is lefned by an others anguifh:
Turne giddie, and be holpe by backward turning :
One defperate gre^fe, cures with an others languifh :
•}• on
Take
OF Romeo and Iuliet^
Take thou fome new infe<ftion to the eye.
And the rank poyfon of the old wil die.
Romeo. Your plantan leafe is excellent for that.
Ben. For what I pray thee ?
Romeo. For your broken fhin.
Ben. Why Romeo art thou mad ?
Rom. Not mad but bound more then a mad man is :
Shut vp in prifon, kept without my foode,
Whipt and tormented ; and godden good fellow,
Ser. Godgigoden, I pray hr can you read ?
Rom. I mine owne fortune in ray miferie.
Ser. Perhaps you haue learned it without booke :
But I pray can you read any thing you fee ?
Rom. I if I know the letters and the language.
Ser. Ye fay honeflly, reft you merry.
Rom. Stay fellow, I can read.
He reades the letter. ,
Seigneur Martino, and his 'wife and daughters : comity An*
felme and his beautious fjiers : the ladie widdow of Vtruuio,
feigneur Placentio, and his lonely neeces : Mercutio and his bro-
ther Valentine : mine vncle Capulet his 'wife and daughters : my
faire neece Rofaline, Liuia, feigneur Valentio, and his cofen
Tybalt : Lucio and the liuely Helena.
A faire alfembly, whither ftiould they come I
Ser. Vp.
Ro. Whither to fupper,
Ser. To our houfe.
Ro. Whofe houfe ?
Ser. My maifters.
Ro. Indeede I fhould haue askt you that before.
Ser. Now He tell you without asking. My maifter is the
great rich Capulet, and if you be not of the houfe of Moun^
tagueSy
The most lamentable Tragedie
t agues y I pray come and crufli a cup of wine. Reft you
merry.
Ben. At this fame auncient feaft of CapuktSy
Sups the faire Rofalm'e whom thou fo hues : f
With all the admired beauties of Veronay
Goe thither and with vnattainted eye,
Compare her face with fome that I (hall fhew,
And I will make the thinke thy fwan a crow.
Ro, When the deuout religion of mine eye,
Maintaines fuch falfhood, then turne teares to'fier:
And thefe who often drownd, could neuer die,
Tranfparent hereticques be burnt for Hers.
One fairer then my loue ? the all feeing fun
Nere faw her match, Hnce firft the world begun.
Ben. Tut you faw her faire none elfe being by,
Her felfe poyfde with her felfe in either eye :
But in that chriftall fcales let there be waid,
Your ladies loue againft fome other maid.
That I will fhew you fhining at this feaft,
And fhe (hall fcant ftiew well, that now Ihewes beft.
Ro. He goe along no fuch fight to be ftiowne.
But to reioyce in fplendor of mine owne.
Enter Capulets 'wife and Nurfe.
Wife. Nurfe wher’s my daughter ? call her forth to me.
Nurfe. Now by my maidenhead, at tvvelue yeare old I
bad her come, what lamb, what ladi-bird, God forbid,
Wheres this girle ? what , I
Enter luliet.
Juliet. How now '^ho calls ?
I^ur. Your mother.
lull
•j- loucjl * had.
OF Romeo and Iuliet.’
hili. Madam I am here, what is your will ?
Wife, This is the matter. Niirfe giue leaiie a while, wee
miifl: talke in fecret. Nurfe come backe againe, I haue re-
membred me, thou’fe heare our counfdl. Thou knoweft my
daughters of a prety age.
Nurfe. Faith I can tell her age vnto an houre.
Wife. Shecs not fourteene.
Nurfe. He lay fourteene of my teeth, and yet to my teene
be it fpoken, I haue but foure, fhees not fourteene.
How long is it now to Lammas -tide P
Wife. A fortnight a -d odde dayes.
Nurfe. Euen or odd, of all dales in the yeare come Lam-
mas eue at night fliali flie be fourteene. Sufan and flie, God
reft' all chrilfian fouls, were of an age. Well Si fan is with
God (hee w^as to good for mee. But as I faid on Lammas
eue at night fhall fliee bee fourteene, that * fliall Ihee marrie,’
I remember it well. Tis fmee the earth-quake now eleuen
yeares, and fhe was weand I neuer fhall forget it, of all the
dales of the yeare vpon that day ; for I had then laid worme-
wood to my dug fitting in the funne vnder the douehoufe
wall. My lord and you were then at Mantua, nay I doe
beare a braine. But as I faide, when it did taft the worme-
wood on the nipple of my dugge, and felt it bitter, pretty
foole, to fee it teachie and fall out with the dugge, Shake
quoth the doue-houfe, twas no needc I trow to bid mee trudge :
and fince that time it is a leuen yeares, for then Ihe could
Hand a lone, nay bi’th roode flie could haue runne and wad-
led all about : for euen the day before fhe broke her brow,
and then my hufband, God bee with his foule, a was a merrie
man, tooke vp the child, yea quoth hee, doefl thou fall vpon
thy face ? thou wilt fall backeward when thou hafl more wit,
wilt thou not lule ? and by my holydam, the pretty wretch
J,eft crying, and faid I : to fee now how a left lhall come
* ihin.
about.
The most lamentable Tragedie .
about. I warrant, and I fliall Hue a thoufand yeares, I ne-
uer (hould forget it : wilt thou not lule quoth he : and pretty
foole it Hinted, and faid I.
Old La. Inough of this, I pray thee hold thy peace.
Niirfe. Yes madam, yet I cannot chufe but laugh, to thinke
it (hould leaue crying and fay I : and yet I warrant it had vpon *
it brow, a bompe as big as a yong cockrels Hone ? a perilous
knock, and it cryed bitterly. Yea quoth my huH)and, fallH
vpon thy face, thou wilt fall backward when thou commeH to
age : wilt thou not Iiile F It Hinted, and faid I.
Jiili. And Hint thon too, I pray thee nurfe, fay I.
Nurfe, Peace I haue done : God marke thee too his grace,
thou waH the prettieH babe that ere I nurH, and I might
liue to fee thee marjied once. I haue my wiHi.
Old La. Marry that marry is the very theame
I came to talke of, tell me daughter Juliet,
How Hands your difpofitions to be married ?
Mi. It is an houre that I dreame not of.
Nurfe. An houre, were not I thine onely nurfe, I would
fay thou hadH fuckt || wifedome from thy -teat.
Old La. Well think of marriage now, yonger then you
Yicx&m Verotia, ladies of eHeeme,
Are made already mothers by my count.
I was your mother, much vpon thefe yeares
That you are now a maide, thus then in briefe :
The valiant Paris feekes you for his loue.
Nurfe. A man young lady, lady, fuch a man as all the world,
Why hees a man of waxe.
Old La. Veronas fummer hath not fuch a flower.
Nurfe. Nay hees a flower, in faith a very flower.
Old La. What fay you, can you loue the gentleman ^ -
This night you (hall behold him at our feaH,
Kead ore the volume of young Paris face,
• on*
\Jutk'd tbj
And
, . OF Romeo AND luLiETi
And find delight, writ there with beauties pen,
Examine euery fenerall liniament,
* And fee how one an other lends content :
And what obfeurde in this faire volume lies.
Find written in the margeant of his eyes.
This precious booke of loue, this vnbound louer, ^
To beautifie him, onely lacks a couer.
The fifh hues in the fea, and.tis much pride
For faire without, the faire within to hide :
That booke in manies * eyes doth fhare the glorie,
That in gold clafpes, locks in the golden ftorie :
So (hall you fliare all that he doth poflefTe,
By hauing him, making your felfe no lefTe.
Nur/e. No lefle nay bigger women grow by men.
Old La. Speake briefly can you like of Paris loue ?
Itdi. He looke to like, if looking liking moiie.
But no more deepe will I endart mine eye
Then your confent giues flrength to make fly.
Enter feruing.
Seriiing. Maddam, the guefls are come, fupper feru’d vp, you
cald, my young lady aflet for, the nurfe curfl: in the pantrie,
and euery thing in extremitie : I mull: hence to wait, I be-
feech you follow flraight.
Mo. We follow thee, luliet the countie flaies.
Nurfe. Goe gyrle, feeke happie nights to happie dayes.
Exeunt,
Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benuolio, nvlth flue or fixe other
maflerSy torch bearers.
(
Romeo. What fliall this fpeech be fpoke for our excufe ?
Or fhall we on without apologie ?
* many.
G Ben.
\
VoL. IV.
The most lamentable Tragedie
Ben, The dare is out of fuch prolix! tie,
Weele haue no Cupid, hud winckt with a (karfe,
Bearing a Tartars painted bow of lath,
Skaring the ladies like a crow-keeper.
But let them meafure vs by what they will,
Weele meafure them a meafure and be gone.
Rom. Giue me a torch, I am not for this ambling.
Being but heauy I will beare the light.
Mercu. Nay gentle Romeo, we muft haue you dance.
Ro. Not I beleeue me, you haue dancing fhopes
With nimble foies, I haue a foule of lead .
So flakes me to the ground I cannot moue.
Mer. You are a louer, borrow Cupids wings.
And fore with them aboue a common bound.
Romeo. I am too fore enpearced with his fhaft.
To foare with his light fethers, and fo b9und,
I cannot bound a pitch aboue dull woe,
Vnder loues heauy burthen doe I finke.
Horatio. And to finke in it fhould you burthen louc.
Too great oppreflion for a tender thing. »
Romeo. Is loue a tender thing t it is too rough.
Too rude, too boyflerous, and it pricks like thorne.
Mer. If loue be rough with you be rough with loue
Prick loue for pricking, and you beat loue downe,
Giue me a cafe to put my vifage in,
A vifor for a vifor, what care I
What curious eye doth quote deformities :
Here are the beetle browes fliall blufh for me.
Ben. Come knocke and enter, and no fooner in.
But euery man betakes * him to his legs,
Ro. A torch for me, let wantons light of heart
Tickle the fenceleffe rufhes with their heeles :
For I am prouerbd with a graunfirc phrafe,
» biUkt,
He
OF Romeo and Ioliet.
lie be a candle-holder and looke on,
The game was nere fo faire, and I am dun.
Mer. Tut, duns the moufe, the conhables owne word
If thou art dun, weele draw thee from the mire
Or faue you reuerence lone, wherein thou ftickefl
Vp to the eares, come we burne day-light ho.
Rom. Nay * thats not fo.
Mer. I meane fir in delay
, We waft our lights in vaine, lights lights by day ;
Take our good meaning, for our iudgement fits
Fiue times in that, ere once in our fine wits.
Rom. And we meane well in going to this mafke,
But tis no wit to go.
Mer. Why may one aflte ?
Rom, I dreampt a dreame to night. ^
Mer. And fo did I.
Rom. Well what was yours ?
Mer. That dreamers often lye.
Ro. In bed a fieepe while they doe dreame things true."
Mer. O then I fee queene Mab hath beene witft you :
She is the fairies midwife, and fhee comes in fhape no bigger
the an agat flone, on the forefinger of an alderman, drawne
with a teeme of little atomies, ouer mens nofes as they lie
afleepe : her waggon fpokes made of long fpinners legs : the
couer of the wings of grafhoppers, her traces of the fmallefl
fpider f web, her coders of the moonfhines watry beames, her
whip of crickets bone, the lafli of philome, her waggoner, a
fmall gray coated gnat, not halfe fo bigge as a round little
worme, prickt from the lazie finger of a man. Her chariot is aa
emptie hafel nut, made by the ioyner fquirrel or old grub, time
out a t mind, the faries coachmakers : and in this flate fhe
gallops night by night, throgh louers brains, and then they
# omitted. J fpider u f of
G 2 dream
The most lamentable Tra.gedie
dream of loue. On courtiers knees, that drcame on curfies
ffrait, ore lawyers fingers who flrait dreame on fees, ore ladies
lips who ffraight on kiffes dreame, which oft the angry Mah
with bliffers plagues, becaufe their breath with fweete meats
tainted are. Sometime flie gallops ore a courtiers nofe, and
then dreame * he of fmelling out a fute : and fometime comes
fhee with a tit h pigs tale, tickling a parfos nofe as a lies a
fleepe, the he dreams of another benefice. Somtime file driu-
cth ore a fouldiers neck, and then dreames he of cutting for-
raine throats, of breaches, ambufeados, Spanijh blades ; of
healths fine fiidome deepe, and then anon drums in his eare, at
which he fiartes and wakes, and being thus frighted, fweares a
prayer or two and fleepes againe ; this is that very Mah thq.t
plats the manes of horfes in the night : and bakes the elklockst
in foule fluttifh haires, which once vntangled, much misfor-
tune bodes.
This is the hag, when maides lie on their backs.
That prelTes them, and learnes them firfl; to beare,
Making them women of good carriage :
This is fhe.4»
Romeo. Peace, peace, Mercutio peace.
Thou talkfi: of nothing.
' Merc. True, I talke of dreames :
Which are the children of an idle braine,
Begot of nothing but vaine phantafie :
Which is as thin of fubfiance as the ay re.
And more inconfiant then the wind, who wooes
Euen now the frozen bofome of the north :
And being angerd pufFes away from thence.
Turning his fide to the dew dropping fouth.
Ben. This wind you talke of, blowes vs from ourfclues.
Supper is done, and we fiiall come too late.
Ro. I feare too early, for my mind mifgiucs,
• dreames. dfockn.
Some
V
OF Romeo and Iuliet.
Some confequence yet hanging in the ftarres.
Shall bitterly begin his fearefull date
With this nights reuels, and expire the terme
Of a defpifed life clofde in my breft :
By fome vile forfeit of vntimely death.
But he that hath the Jiirrage f of my courfe,
Dire6l my fute ; on iuflie gentlemen.
Ben. Strike drum.
They march about the Jiage, and feruingmen come forth ’with
napkins.
Enter Romeo.
Ser. Wheres Potpan that he helpes not to take away ?
He diift a trencher, he fcrape a trencher ?
1 . When good manners (hall lie all in one or two mens
hands, and they vnwafht too, tis a foule thing.
Ser. Away with the loyiiRooIes, remoue the court cubbert,
looke to the plate, good thou, faue mee a peece of marchpano,
and as thou loues mee, let the porter let in Sufan Grindjione,
and Nell^ Anthonie and Potpan.
2. I boy readie.
Ser. You are lookt for, and cald for, a(kt for, and fought
for in the great chamber.
3. We cannot be here and there too, chearely boyes.
Be brilk a while, and the longer liuer take all. Exeunt*
)
Enter all the guefls and gentlewomen to the maskers.
I. Capu. Welcome gentlemen, ladles that haue their toes
Vnplagued with comes, will walke about with you :
Ah my midrefTes, which of you all
Will now deny to dance, (he that makes dainty,
-|- peerage.
G3
She
s
The most lamentable Tragedie
She He fwcare hath corncs : am I come neare ye now ?
Welcome gentlemen, I hauc fecne the day
That I haue worne a vifor and could tell
A whifpering tale in a faire ladies earc :
Such as would pleafe : tis gone, tis gone, tis gone.
You are welcome gentlemen, come mufitians play :
Muficke plaies, and they dance.
A hall, a hall, giue roome, and foote it girles,
More light you knaues, and turne the tables vp :
And quench the her, the roome is growne too hot.
Ah firrah, this vnlookt for fport comes well ;
Nay fit, nay fit, good cozin Capulety
For you and I are paft our dauncing dales :
How long ifl: now fince lafi your felfe and I
Were in a mafke ?
2. Capu. Berlady thirty yeares.
1 Capu. What man tis not fo much, tis not fo much,
Tis fince the nuptiall of Lucientio,
Come Pentycofi: as quickly as it will.
Some fine and twenty yeares, and then we mafkt.
2 Capu. Tis more, tis more, his fonne is elder fir ^
His fonne is thirty.
I Capu. Will you tell me that ?
His fonne was but a ward two yeares agoe.
Ro. What ladle is that which doth in rich the hand
Of yonder knight ?
Ser. I know not fir.
Ro. O (he doth teach the torches to burne bright ; .
It feemes file hangs vpon the cheeke of night.
As a rich iewel in an JEthiops eare.
Beauty too rich for vfe, for earth too deare :
So fiiewes a fnowie doue trooping with crowes,
As yonder lady ore her fellowes fhpwes :
The
OF Romeo and Iuliet.
The meafure done, He watch her place of Hand,
And touching hers, make blefled my rude hand.
Did my heart loue till now, forfweare it fight.
For I nere faw true beauty till this night,
Tib. This by his voice, fliould be a Mount ague.
Fetch me my rapier boy, what dares the flaue
Come hether couerd with an antique face.
To fleere and fcorne at our folemnitie ?
Now by the Hocke and honour of my kin,
To Hrike him dead I hold it not a fin.
Ca^u. Why how now kinfman wherefore Horme you fo ?
Tib. Vncle this is a Mount ague our foe :
A villaine that is hither come in fpight.
To fcorne at our folemnitie this night.
Capu. Young Romeo is it.
Tib, Tis he, that villaine Rjomeo.
Capu. Content thee gentle coze, let him alone,
A beares him like a portly gentleman ;
And to fay truth, Verona brags of him.
To be a vertuous and well gouernd youth,
I would not for the welth of all this towne, >
Here in my houfe doe him difparagement :
Therefore be patient, take no note of him.
It is my will, the which if thou refpedf.
Shew a faire prefence, and put off thefe frownes,
An ill befeeming femblance for a feaft.
Tib, It fits when fuch a villaine is a gueH,
He not endure him.
Capu, He fhall be endured.
What goodman boy, I fay he fhall, go too.
Am I the maifler here or you ? go too,
Youle not endure him, God fhall mend my foule,
Youle make a mutinie among my guefls :
You will fet cock a hoope, youle be the man,
G4
Tu
The most lamentable Tragedie
77. Why vncle, tis a fhame.
Capu. Go too, go too,
You are a fawcy boy, ifl fo Indeed ?
This tricke may chance to fcath 3’ou I know what, ,
You mufl: contrary me, marry tis time,
Well faid my hearts, you are a princox, goe.
Be quiet, or more light j more light for Jhame, *
He make you quiet (what) chearely my hearts.
Ti. Patience perforce, with willfull cholcr meeting.
Makes my flefh tiemble in their different greeting :
I will withdraw but this intrufion fhal
Now feeming fweete, conuert to bitter gall. Exit,
Ro. If 1 prophane with my vnworthicft hand.
This holy fhrine, the gentle fin is this,
, My lips two blulliing pylgrims did | ready Hand,
To fmooth that rough touch with a tender kiffe.
III. Good pilgrime you do wrong your hand too much
Which mannerly deuction fliewes in this,
For faints haue hands, that pilgrims hands doe tuch.
And palme to palme is holy palmers kiffe.
Ro. Haue not faints lips and holy palmers too ?
luH. I pilgrim, lips that they muft vfe in prayer. ' '
Rom. 0 then deare faint, let lips doe what hands doe.
They pray (grant thou) leafl faith turne'to difpaire. ' '
Ju. .Saints doc not moue, though grant for prayers fake,
Ro. Then moue not while my prayers eifefl I take.
Thus from my lips, by thine my fin h purgd;
III. Then haue my lips the fin that they haue tooke,
Ro. Sin from my lips, O trefpas fweetly vrgd : ” ’ ' '
Glue me my fm againeV ^
Juli. You kiffe bith booke.
Nur. Madam your mother craues a word with you.
* pjote light in a parenthefis. J omitted,^ ‘ i
’ Rom.
OF Romeo and Iuliet,
Rom. What is her mother ?
Nurf. Marrie batcheler.
Her mother is the lady of the houfe.
And a good ladie, and a wife and vertuous,
I nurft her daughter that you talkt withall ;
I tell 5!ou, he that can lay hold of her.
Shall haue thechincks.
Rom. Is Ihe a Capiilet ?
0 deare account ! my life is my foes debt.
Ben. Away, be gone, the fport is at the beft.
Rom. I fo I feare, the more is my vnreff.
Capu. Nay gentlemen prepare not to be gone,
We haue a trifling foolifh banquet towards ;
Is it ene fo ? why then I thanke you all.
1 thanke you honefl gentlemen, good night :
More torches here, come on, then lets to bed.
Ah firrah, by my faie it waxes late.
He to my reft.
lull. Come hither nurfe, what is yond gentleman ?
Nurf. The fonne and heire of old Tyberio.
lull. Whats he that now is going out of f doore ?
V Nur. Marrie that I thinke be young Petruchio.
lull. Whats he that follows here that would not dance
Nurf I know not.
lull. Go afke his name, if he be married.
My graue is like to be my wedding bed.
Nurf. His name is Romeo, and a Mountague,
The onely fonne of your great enemie.
lul. My onely loue fprung from my onely hate.
Too early feene, vnknowne, and knowne too late.
Prodigious birth of loue it is to mee,
That I muft loue a loathed enemie. .
Nurf, Whats tis \ whats tis ?
The most lamentable Tragedie
lu, A rime I leart euen now
Of one I danfl withall.
One cals within luliet,
Nurf, Anon, anon :
Come lets away, the (liangers all are gone,
Chorus,
Now old defire doth in his deathbed lie,
And yong affeffion gapes to be his heire.
That faire for which loue gron’de for * and
With tender Juliet matcht, is now not faire.
Now J^omco isbeloued, and loues againe,
A like bewitched by the charme of lookes :
But to his foe fuppofdehe muft complaine.
And Ihe fteale loues fweet bait from fearefull
Being held a foe, he may not haue accelTe
To breath fuch vowes as louers vfe to fweare,
And fhe as much in loue, her meanes much lefle,
To meete her new beloued any where :
But pallion lends them power, time meanes to meete.
Tempring extremities with extreame fweete.
Enter Romeo alone,
Rom. Can I goe forward when my heart is here,
Turne backe dull earth and find thy center out.
Enter Benuolio, with Mercutio.
Ben. Romeo y my cozen Romeo ^ Romeo.
- Mer. He is wife, and on my life hath ftolne him home to
bed.
Ben. He ran this way and leapt this orchard wall.
Exeunt.
would die.
hookes :
* f$r omitted.
Call
OF Romeo and Iuliet#
Call good Mercutio :
Nay He cbniure too.
Mer, Romeo ^ humours, madman, paffion louer,
Appeare thou in the likenefTe of a figh,
Speake but one rime and 1 am fatisfied :
Cry but ay me, prouaunt, but loue and day^ *
Speake to my gofhip Vemu one faire word.
One nickname for f her purblind fonne and her §,
Young Abraham : Cupid he that ihot fo true.
When king Cophetua lou’d the begger maid.
Kc heareth not, he ftriueth f not, he mcueth not.
The ape is dead, and I muft coniure him,
Iconiure the by Rofalines bright eyes.
By her high forehead, and her fcarlet lip.
By her fine foote, firaigbt leg, and quiuering thigh.
And the demeanes, that there adiacent lie.
That in thy likenefTe thou appeare to vs.
Ben. And if he hearethee thou wilt anger him.
Mer. This cannot anger him, t’would anger him
To raife a fpirit in his miftrefie circle,
Of fome ftrange nature, letting it there Band
Till (he had laide it, and ccniured it downe.
That were fome fpight.
My inuocation is faire and honefl, and in his mlflrefle name,
I coniure onely but to raife vp him.
Ben. Come, he hath hid himfelfe among thefe trees
To be confortcd with the humerous night :
Blind is his lone, and befi; befits the darke.
Mer. If loue be blind, loue cannot hit the marke.
Now will he fit vndcr a raedler tree,
And wifh his mifireiTe were that kinde of fruite.
As maides call medlers when they laugh alone,
O Romeo that fhe were, O that fhe were
* t
Ah
§ heire.
J ftirrttb.
The most' lamentable Tra’gedie
An open, or thou * a poprin peare.
Romeo goodnight lie to my truccle bed.
This field-bed is to cold for me to fleepe,
Come (hall we goe I
Ben, Go then, for tis in vaine to feeke him here
That meanes not to be found. Exit,
Ro, He ieafts at fcarres that neuer felt a wound,
Eut foft, what light through yonder windowe breaks ?
It is the eafi:, and luliei is thefunne.
Arife faire fun and kill the enuious moone.
Who is already ficke and pale with griefe.
That thou her maid art far more faire then flic : f
Be not her maid fince fhe is enuious.
Her veflal liuery is but ficke and greene.
And none but fooles doe weare it, caft it off:
It is my lady, O it is my loue, O that flie knew flie were.
She fpeakes yet fhe fayes nothing, what of that ?
Her eye difeourfes, I will anfwere it :
1 am too bold tis not to me flie fpeakes :
Two of the fairefl: flarres in all the heauen,
Hauing fome bufines do entreat her eyes,
"To twinckle in their fpheres till they returne.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head.
The brightnefle of her cheeke would fhame thofe flarres.
As day-light doth a lampe, her eye in heauen.
Would through the ayrie region ftreame fo bright.
That birds would fing, and thinke it were not night :
See how flie leanes her cheeke vpon her hand. '■
O that I were a gloue vpon that hand.
That I might touch that cheeke.
Jiili. Ay me
Rom, She fpeakes.
Oh fpeake againe bright angell, for thou art
As glorious to this night being ore my head,
J' *■ and CiCttray and thou.
As
OF Romeo and Iuliet.
As is a winged mefTenger of heauen
Vnto the white vpturned. wondring eyes.
Of mortalls that fall backe to gaze on him,
When he beftrides the lazie puffing cloudes, , •
And hiiles vpon the bofome of the ayre.
lull, O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo ?
Denie thy father and refufe thy name :
Or if thou wilt not, be but fworne my loue,
And He no longer be a CapiilcU
Rom. Shall I hearc more, or fhall I fpeake at this ?
lull. Tis but thy name that is my enemy :
Thou art thy felfe, though not a Mountague,
Whats Mountague ? it is nor hand nor foote,
Nor arme nor face, O be fome other name
Belonging to a man.
What’s in a name that which we call a rofe.
By any other word would fmell as fweete.
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo cald,
Retaine that deare perfe(5lion which he owes,
Without that title, Romeo doffe thy name, -
And for thy name which is no part of thee.
Take all my felfe.
Ro. I take thee at thy word :
Call me but loue, and lie be new baptizde,
Hence forth I neuer will be Romeo.
Mi. What man art thou, that thus befereend In night
So ftumbleft on my counfcil I
Ro. By a name, I know not how to tell thee who I am
My name deare flint, is hatefull to my felfe,
Becaufe it is an enemy to thee, ^
Had I it written, I would teare the word.
Mi. My eares haue yet not drunke a hundred words
Of thy tongues vttering, yet I know the found.
Art thou not Romeo, and a Mountague P
The most lamentable Tragedie
Rom. Neither faire maide, if either thee diflike.
Jii. How camcfl thou hither, tell me, and wherefore ?
The orchard walls are high and hard to dimbe.
And the place death, confidering who thou art
If any of my kinfmen find thee here.
Ro. With loues light wings did I oreperch thefe walls,
For flony limits cannot hold loue out.
And what loue can do, that dares loue attempt :
Therefore thy kinfmen are no flop to me.
lu. If they do fee thee, they will murther thee.
Ro. Alacke there lies more perill in thine eye.
Then twenty of their fwords, looke thou but fweete.
And I am proofe againfi: their enmity.
lu. I would not for the world they faw thee here.
Rom. I haue nights cloake to hide me from their eyes.
And but thou loue me, let them find me here
My life were better ended by their hate.
Then death proroged wanting of thy loue.
lull. By whofe diredion foundfi: thou out this place ?
Ro. By loue that firfi: did promp me to enquire,
He lent me counfell, and I lent him eyes :
I am no pylot, yet wert thou as far
As that vafi: fliore wafiiet with the farthefi fea,
I fhould aduenture for fuch marchandife.
lull. Thou knowefi the maske of night is on my face,
Elfe would a maiden blufii bepaint my cheeke.
For that which thou hafl: heard me fpeake to night,
Faine would I dwell on forme, faine, faine, denie
What I haue fpoke, but farewell complement.
Doefi: thou loue me ? I know thou wilt fay I :
And I will take thy word, yet if thou fwearfi,
Thou maieft proue falfe, at louers periuries
They fay lone laughs, oh gentle Romeoy
If thou dofi loue pronounce it faithfully ;
OF Romeo aijd Iuliet.
Or if thou thinkeft I am too quickly wonne.
He frowne and be peruerfe, and fay thee nay.
So thou wilt wooe, but elfe not for the world.
In truth faire Mountague I am too fond :
And therefore thou maieft thinke my behauiour light>
But trull: me gentleman. He proue more true.
Then thofe that haue * coying to be Hrange,
I Ihould haue beene more ftrange, I mud: confefTe,
But that thou oner heardll ere I was ware
My true hue f palTion, therefore pardon me.
And not impute this yeelding to light loue.
Which the darke night hath fo difcouered.
Ronu Lady, by yonder bleffed moone I vow.
That tips with filuer all thefe fruite tree tops.
III. O fweare not by the moone th’inconflant moone.
That monethly changes in her circled orbe.
Lead that thy loue proue likewife variable.
Rom. What fhall I fweare by ?
lull. Do not fweare at all :
Or if thou wilt fweare by thy gratious felfe,
Which is the god of my idolatry,
And He beleeue thee.
R(^ If my hearts deare loue.
lu. Well doe not fweare, although I ioy In thee :
I haue no ioy of this contrafl to night.
It is too ralh, too vnaduifde, too fudden.
Too like the lightning which doth ceafe to bee.
Ere, one can fey, it lightens, fweete good night :
This bud of loue by fummers ripening breath.
May proue a beautious flower when next we meete,
Goodnight, goodnight, as fweete repofe and red.
Come to thy heart, as that within my bred.
Rq. O wilt thou leaue me fo vnfatisfied ?
* haue mire. 'f hues.
lu.
m
The most lamentable Tragedie
III, What ratIsfa(flion canfl thou haue to night ?
Ro, Th’ exchange of thy loues faithfull vow for mine*
lu. I gaue thee mine defore thou didfl requefl: it :
And yet I would it were to glue againe.
Ro. Wouldft thou withdraw it, for what purpofe loue ?
lu. But to be franke and giue it thee againe,
And yet I wifli’but for the thing I haue,
My bounty is as boundleffe as the fea.
My loue as deepe, the more I giue to thee
The more I haue, for both are infinite :
I heare fome noyfe within, deare loue adue i
Anon good nurfe, fweete Mountagiie be true :
Stay but a little, I will come againe.
Ro. O bleffed bleffed night, I am afeard
Being in night, all this is but a dreame,
Too flattering fweet to be fubflantiall.
lu. Three words deare Romeo, and good night indeed^
If that thy bent of lone be honorable.
Thy purpofe marriage, fend me word to morrow.
By one that He procure to come to thee.
Where and what time thoti wilt performe the right, *
And all my fortunes at thy foote He lay.
And follow thee my L § throughout the world.
Madam*
I come, anon : but if thou meaneft not well.
Madam.
I doe befeech thee (by and by I come)
To ceafe ihyjirife f and leaue me to my griefe,
To morrow will I fend.
Ro. So thriue my foule. , .
III. A thoufmd times good night*
Ro. A thoufand times the worfe to want thy light f
Loue goes toward loue as fchoole boyes from their bookes.
But loue from loue, toward fchoole with heauy lookes.
OF Romeo and Iuliet.
Enter Iuliet againe.
III. Hlfl; Romeo hlft, O for a falkners voice,
To lure this talfel gentle backe againe,
Bondage is hoarfe, and may not fpeake.aloude,
Elfe would I teare the caue where eccho lies.
And make her ayry tongue more hoarfe, then *
With repetition of my Romeo,
Ro. It is my Joule J that calls vpon my name.
How Iiluer fweet, found louers tongues by night.
Like fofteft muficke to attending eares.
III. Romeo,
I Rom. My neece.§
lul. What a clock to morrow
Shall I fend to thee ?
Ro. By the houre of nine.
lull. I will not faile, tis twenty yeares till then,
I haue forgot why I did call thee backe.
Ro. Let me Band here till thou remember it.
liili. I (hall forget, to haue the Bill Band there,
Remembring how I lone thy company.
Ro. And He Bill Bay, to haue thee Bill forget.
Forgetting any other home but this,
lull. Tis almoB morning, I would haue thee gone.
And yet no farther then a wantons bird.
That lets it hop a little from his hand.
Like a poore prifoner in his twiBed giues.
And wnth a filken thred plucks it backe againe.
So louing iealous of his liberty.
Rom. I would I were thy bird.
III. Sweet fo would I,
Yet I Biould kill thee with much cheriBiing :
Good night, good night. /
* than mins. J ioue. § deers.
VoL. !¥• H
Ro.
The most lamentable Tragedie
f Ro. Parting is fuch fweete forrovv,
That I rtiall fay goodnight, till it be morrow.
♦ lu. Slecpe dwell vpon thine eyes, peace in thy breaft.
Rom. Would I were fleepe and peace fo fweete to reft
T'he gray eyde morne /miles on the frowning night.
Checkring the eajierne clouds with Jireakes of light.
And darkneffe feckeld like a drunkard reeles,
From forth dayes pathway, made by Titans wheeles.
Hence will I to my ghoftly friers clofe cell.
His helpe to craue, and my deare hap to tell. Exit.
• Enter Frier alone with a basket.
Fri. The grey eyde morne fmiles on the frowning night
Checkring the eafterne cloudes with ftreaks of light :
And fleckeld darkneffe like a drunkard reeles,
From forth dales path, and Titans burning wheeles :
Now ere the fun aduance his burning eye.
The day to cheere, and nights diinke dew to dry,
I muft vpfill this ofier cage of ours, •
With baleful! weedes, and precious iuiced flowers.
The earth that’s natures mother is f her tombe.
What is her burying graue, that is her wombe :
And from her wombe children of diuers kind
We fucking on her natu rail bofome find :
Many for many vertues excellent :
None but for fome, and 5^et all different.
O mickle is the powerfull grace that lies
In plants, hearbs, ftones, and their true qualities ;
For nought fq vile, that on the earth doth line.
But to the earth fome fpecial good doth giue : ' '
•j- Thefe two lines, ip the edition of 1637, added to the foregoing fpeech.
* This l:ne is likewife added to the following fpeech, into which four lines of
the flier’s have crept, through a blunder of the printer, and are dillinguilhe-d by
itallcks.
J w. '
Nor
OF Romeo and Iuliet.'
Nor ought fo good, but flraind from that faire vfe,
Reuolts from true birth, tumbling on abufe.
Vertue it felfe turnes vice being mifapplied,
And vice fometime by adlion dignified.
Enter Romeo.
Within the infant rinde of this weake flower
Poyfon hath refidence, and medicine power :
For this being fmelt with that part, cheares each part.
Being tailed flayes all fence * with the heart.
Two fuch oppofed kings encampe them Rill,
In man as well as hearbes, grace and rude will :
And where the worfer is predominant.
Full foone the canker death eates vp that plant.
Ro. Good morrow father.
Fr. Benedicite.
What early tongue fo fv/eete faluteth me ?
Young fonne, it argues a diflempered hed.
So foone to bid goodmorrow to thy bed :
Care keepes his watch in cuery old mans eye,
And where care lodges, fleepe will neuer lye :
But where vnbrufed youth u'ith vnftuft braine
Doth couch his lims, there golden fleepe doth raign.
Therefore thy earlinefle doth me afTure,
Thou art vproufd with fome diflemprature :
Or if not fo, then here I hit it right.
Our Romeo hath not beene in bed to night.
Ro. That lafl; is true, the fweeter reft was mine.
Frh God pardon fin,' waft thou with Rofaline?
Rom. With Rofaline, my ghoftly father no,
I haue forgot that name, and that names woe. ^
Fri. Thats my good fon, but where haft thou beene then ?
Ro. He tell thee ere thou aflce it me agen ;
* fenfes, . '
Ha I haue
1
The most lamentable Tragedie
I haue beene feafting with mine enemie,
Wher on a fudden one hath wounded me :
Thats by me wounded, both our remedies
Within thy helpe and holy phificke lies :
I beare no hatred bleflTed man : for loe
My intercelTion likewife fleads my foe.
Fri. Be plaine good fonne and homely in thy drift,
Ridling confeflion, findes but ridling fhrift.
Rom. Then plainely know my harts deare loue is fet
On the faire daughter of rich Capulet :
As mine on hers, fo hers is fet on mine
And all combind, faue what thou mull: combine
By holy marriage : when and where, and how.
We met, we wooed, and made exchange of vow :
He tell thee as we palle, but this I pray.
That thou confent to marrie vs to-day,
Fri. Holy S. Francis what a change is here ?
Is Rofaline that thou didfl loue fo deare,
So foone forfaken ? young mens loue then lies
Not truely in their hearts, but in their eyes.
lefu Maria, what a deale of brine
Hath walht thy fallow cheekes for Rofaline ?
How much fait water throwne away in wall.
To feafon loue that of it doth not tad.
The fun not yet thy fighes, from heauen cleares
Thy old grones yet ringing * m my \ auncient eares :
Lo here vpon thy cheeke the flaine doth fit,
Of an old teare that is not wafht off yet.
If ere thou wall thy felfe, and thefe woes thine,
Thou and thefe woes, were all iov Rofaline.
And art thou chang’d ? pronounce this fentence then,
Women may fall, when thers no firength in men.
OF Romeo and Juliet.
Ro. Thou chidfl me oft for loulng Rofaline,
Fri, For doting, not for l6uing pupill mine.
^ Ro. And badfl: me bury loue.
Fru Not in a grane,
To lay one in, an other out to haue.
Ro. I pray thee chide me not, her I loue now
Doth grace for grace, and loue for loue alow :
The other did not fo.
Fri. O (he knew well,
Thy loue did read by rote, that could not fpell :
But come young wauerer, como '* goe with me, '
In one refpe(fl He thy affiflant be :
For this alliance may fo happy proue.
To turne your hou (holds rancor to pure loue.
Rom. O let vs hence, I Band on fuddenhall:.
Fri. Wifely and Bow, they Bumble that run faB,
Exeunt.
Enter Benuolio a?id Mercutio.
Merc. Where the deu’le flionld this Romeo be ? came hee
not home to night ?
Ben. Not to his fathers, I fpoke with his man.
Mer. Why that fame pale hard hearted wench, Rofaline
torments him fo, that he will fure run mad.
Ben. Tibalty the kinfman to old Capuletf hath fent a letter
to his fathers houfe.
Mer. A challenge on my life.
Ben. Romeo will anfwere It.
Mer. Any man that can write may anfwere a letter.
Ben. Nay, he will anfwere the letters maiBer how he dares
being dared.
Mer. Alas poore Romeo ^ hee is already dead, Bab’d with ^
white wenches blacke eye, runne through the eare with a loug
* come and.
H 3 fong,
The most lamentable Tragedie
fon^, tlie very pinne of his heart, cleft with the blindc bowe-
boyes biit-niaft, and is hce a man to encounter Tibalt ? .
Rom. Why what is Tibalt F
Mer. More then prince of cats. Oh hees the coiiragious
captaine of complements: he fights as you fing prickfong,
keeps time diflance and proportion, he refls his minum reds,
one two and the third in your bofome : the very butcher of
a filke button a duaHH: a dualifl, a gentleman of the very flrfl:
houfe of the firfl and fecond caufe, ah the immortall paflado,
the punto reuerfo, the hay.
Ben. The what ?
Mer. The pox of fuch antique lifping afFe<n:ing phanta-
cies, thefe new tuners of accent * : by lefu a very good blade,
a- very tall man, a very good whore. Why is not this a la-
mentable thing grandfiry f that we fliould be thus affliffed
with thefe flrange flies : thefe fafhion-mongers, thefe pardon J
mees, who fland fo much on the new forme, that they can
not fit at eafe on the old bench. O their bones, their bones.
Enter Romeo.
Ben. Here comes Romeo ^ here comes Romeo,
Mer. Without his roe, like a dryed hering, O flefh, flefh,
how art thou filhified ? now is he for the nubers that Pe-
trarch flowed in : Laura io his lady, was a kitchin wench,
marrie flie had a better loue to berime her: Dido a dowdie,
Cleopatra a gipfie, Hellen and H,ero^ hildings and harlots :
Thi/lne a grey eie or fo, but not to the purpofe. SAgmov Romeo
bon ieiir, theres a French falutation to your French flop : you
gaue vs the counterfeit fairely laft night.
Rom. Good morrow to you both, what counterfeit did I
glue you ?
Mer. The flip fir, the flip, can you not conceiue ?
* accents, ^ grand -fire, \ pardona-.
OF Romeo and Iuliet;
Romeo. Pardon good Mercutioy my bufinefTe was great, and
in fuch a cafe as mine, a man may ftraine curtefie.
M'er, That as much as to fay, fuch a cafe as yours con-
ftralns a man to bow in the hams.
Romeo. Meaning to curfie.
Mer. Thou haft moft kindly hit it.
Rom. A moft curteous expofition.
Mer* Nay I am the very pincke of curtefie :
Romeo. Pinck for flower.
Mer. Right,
Rom. Why then is my pump well flowered.
Mer. Sure wit, follow me this ieaft, now till thou haft
worne out thy pump, that when the Angle foie of it is worne,
the ieaft may remaine after the wearing, foly Angular.
Ro. O Angle folde ieaft, foly Angular for the AnglenefTe,
Mer. Come betweene vs good BenuoUo, my 'ivits * faints.
Ro. Swits and fpurs, fwits and fpurs, or He crie a match.
Mer. Nay, if our wits run the wild goofe chafe, I am done :
for thou haft more of the wild goofean one of thy wits, then
I am fure I haue in my whole Aue. Was I with you there
for the goofe ?
Ro. Thou waft neuer with mee for any thing, when thou
waft not there for the goofe.
Mer. I will bite thee by the eare for that ieaft.
- Ro. Nay good goofe bite not.
Tlf^r.Thy wit is a very bitter fweting, it is a moft fliarp
fawce.
Ro. And is it not well feru’d in to a fweet goofe ?
Mer. Oh here’s a wit of cheuerell, that ftretches from an
ynch narrow, to an ell broad.
Ro. I ftretch it out for that word, broad, which added to
the goofe, proues thee farre and wide, a broad goofe.
Mer. Why is not this better now, then groning for loue,
* 7vif.
H4
(
now
The most lamentable Tracedie
now art thou foclable, now art thou Romeo : now art thou
what thou art, by art as well as by nature, for this driueling
loue is like a great naturall, that runs lolling vp and downc to
hide his bable in a hole.
JBen. Stop there, flop there.
A^er, Thou deli reft me to flop In my tale againft the halre^
Ben^ Thou wouldft elfe haue made thy tale large.
Mer. O thou art deceiu’d, I would haue made it ftiort, for
I was come to the whole depth of my tale, and meant indeed
to occupie the argument no longer.
Enter Nurfe and her man^
Ro, Heres goodly geare.
A fayle, a fayle.
' Mer, Two, two, a ftiirt and a fmocke.
Nur, Peter :
Peter. Anon.
Nur. My fan Peter.
Mer. Good Peter to hide her face, for her fans the fairer
face.
Nurf. Cod ye good morrow gentlemen.
Mer. God ye gooden faire gentlewoman.
JSur. Is it good den ?
Mer. Tis no le/Te I tell you, for the bawdy hand of the dyall
is now vpon the pricke of noone.
Nur. Out vpon you, what a man are you ? ,
Ro. One gentiewoma, that God hath made, himfelfe to
mar.
Nur. By my troth it is well faid, for himfelfe to mar quath
a : getleme ca any of you tel me wher I may find the yong
Romeo ?
Ro. I can tell you, but young Romeo will be older when you
haue found him, then he was when you fought him : I am the
youngeft of that name, for fault of a worfe.
Nur.
r.
OF Romeo and Iuliet.
JVur. You fay well.
Mer. Yeaistheworflwel, very wel took,ifaith, wifely, wifely.
JVur. If j/ou * be he fir, I defire fome confidence with you.
Ben, She will endite him to fome fupper.
Mer. A baud, a baud, a baud. So ho.
Ro. What haft thou found ?
Mer, No hare ftr, vnlefte a hare fir in a lenten pie, that is
fomething ftale and hoare ere it be fpent.
An old hare hoare, and an old hare hoare is very good meat
in lent.
But a hare that Is hore f ,is too much for a fcore, when it
hares J ere it be fpent,
Romeo will you come to your fathers ? weele to dinner thither,
Ro, I will follow you.
Mer, Farewell auncient lady, farev/ell lady, lady, lady.
Exeunt,
Nur, I pray you fir, v;hat fawcie merchant was this that
was fo full of his roperie ?
Romeo. A gentleman nurfe, that loues to heare himfelfe talke,
and will fpeake more in a minjjte, then he will ftand to In a
moneth.
Nur, And a fpeake any thing againft me. He take him
down, and a were luftier then he is, and twentie fuch lacks :
and if I cannot, He finde thofe that fliall: fcuruie knaue, I am
none of his flurt gils, I am none of his fkaines mates, and thou
muft ftand by too and fufPer euery knaue to vfe mee at his
pleafure.
Pet, I faw no man vfe you at his pleafure : if I had, my
weapon fhould quickly haue been out, I warrant you, I dare
draw aftbone as another man, if I fee occafion in a good quar”
rell, and the law on my fide.
Nur, Now afore God, I am fo vext, that euery part about
me quiuers, fkuruy knaue : pray you fir a word : and as I
* thou.
'f' boar.
\ boartt.
told
The most lamentable Tragedie
told yon, my young lady bid me enquire you out, what (he bid
me fay, I will keepe to my felfe ; but firft let me tell ye, if ye
fliould leade her in a fooles paradife, as they fay it were a very
grolTe kind of behauiour as they fay : for the gentlewoman is
yong : and therefore, if you Ihould deale double with her,
truely it were an ill thing to be offered to any gentlewoman,
and very weake dealing.
. Rom. Nurfe commend me to thy lady and miftriffe, I proteft
vnto thee.
iVwr. Good heart, and yfaith I will tell her. as much : lord,
lord (lie will bee a ioyfull woman.
What wilt thou tell her nurfe? thou doefl not markerae?
Nar. I will tell her fir, that you doe proteft, which as I
take it, is a gentlemanlike' offer.
Rom. Bid her deuife fome meanes to come to fhiift this af-
ternoone.
And there (lie fhall at frier La-jorence cell
Be fhriued and married : here is for thy paines.
Nur. No truly fir not a penny.
Rom. Go too, I fay you fhall.
Nur. This afternoone fir, well file fhall be there.
Rom, And flay good nurfe behind the abbey Wall,
Within this houre my man (liall be with thee.
And bring thee cords made like a tackled* flaire.
Which to the high top gallant of my ioy.
Mu ft be my conuoy in the fecret night.
Farewell be truflie and He quite thy paines :
Farewell, commend me to thy miftrefle.
Nurfe. Now God in heauen blefle thee, harke you hr.
' Ro. What faift thou my deare nurfe ?
Nurfe. Is your man fecret, did you nere here fay, two may
keepe counfell putting one away.
Ro. Warrant thee my mans as true as flecle.
OF Romeo and Iuliet.
JVz/r. Well fir, my miftrefTe is the fweeteft lady, Lord, Lord,
when twas a little prating thing. O there is a noble man in
towne one Paris^ that -would faine lay knife ahoord : but flie
good foule had as leeue fee a tode, a very tode as fee him : I
anger her fometimes, and tell her that Paris is the properer
man, but He warant you, when I fayfo, fnee lookes as pale as
any clout in the verfall world, doth not rofemarie and Romeo
begin both with a letter.
Ro, I nurfe, what of that ? Both with an R.
Niir. A mocker that the dogs name. R is lor the no, I
know it begins with fome other letter, and (lie hath the pret-
tieft“fentcntious of it, of you and rolernary, that it Vv^ould do
you good to heare it:
Rom. Commend me to thy lady.
JVur. I a thoufand times. Peter ?
Pet. Anon.
Nur. Before and apace. Exit,
I
Enter Iuliet.
In. The clocke ftrooke nine when I did fend the nurfe.
In halfean houre fne promifed to returne,
Perchance fhe cannot meete him, thats not fo :
Oh (he is lame, loues heraulds (hould be thoughts.
Which ten^ times fader glides then the funnes beames,
Drilling back (hadowes ouer lowring hills.
Theretore do nimble piniond doues draw loue,
And therefore hath the wind-fwift Cupid wings :
Now is the fun vpon the highmod hill
Of this dales iourney, and from nine till twelue,
Is three long houres, yet die is not come,
Had die afFecHons and warme youthfull bloud,
She would be as fwift in motion as a ball,
My words would bandy her to my fweete lone.
M, And
The most lamentable Tragedie
iT/. And his to me, but old folkes, many faine as they were
dead,
Vnwieldie, flow, heauy, and pale as lead.
Enter Nurfe.
O God flie comes, O hony nurfe what newes ?
Hafl thou met with him ? fend thy man away.
iVwr. Peter flay at the gate.
hi. Now good fweet nurfe, O Lord, why lookefl thou fad ?
Though newes, be fad, yet tell them merily.
If good thou fhameft the muficke of fweete newes.
By playing it to me, with fo fower a face.
Nur. I am a weary, giue me leaue a while.
Fie how my bones ake, what a iaunce * haue I had ?
III. I would thou hadfl my bones, and I thy newes :
Nay come I pray thee fpeake, good good nurfe fpeake.
JViir. lefu what hafl, can you not flay awhile ?
Do you not fee that I am out of breath ?
lu. How art thou out of breath, when thou hafl breath
To fay to me, that thou art out of breath ?
The excufe that thou dofl make in this delay.
Is longer then the tale thou dofl excufe,
Is thy newes good or bad ? anfwere to that.
Say either and He flay the circumflance :
Let me be fatisfied, ill: good or bad ?
Nur. Wei, you haue made a Ample choice, you know not
how to chufe a man : Romeo, no not he though his face bee
better then any mans, yet his leg excels all mens, and for a
hand and a foote and a body, though they be not to be talkt
on, yet they are pafl compare : he is, not the flower of curtefle,
but He warrant him as gentle as a lamme : go thy waies wench,
ferue God. What haue you dinde at home ?
* taunt.
lu,
OF Romeo and Iuliet,
III, No no, but all this did I know before
What faies he of our marriage, what of that ?
Nur, Lord how my head akes, what a head haue I :
It beates as it would fall in twenty peeces.
My backe a tother fide, a my backe, my backe :
Befhrew your heart for fending me about
To catch my death with iaimfing * vp and downe.
III. I faith I am forrie that thou art not well.
Sweete fweete, fweete nurfe, tell me what fayes my loue ?
Nur. Your loue faies like an honeil gentleman.
And a courteous, and a kind, and a handfome.
And I warrant a vertuous, where is your mother I
lu. Where is my mother, why fhe is within, where fliould
fhe be ?
How odly thou replied: :
Your loue faies like an honed gentleman.
Where is your mother ?
Nur. O Gods lady deare.
Are you fo hot, marrie come vp I trow.
Is this the poultis for my aking bones :
Henceforward do your medages your felfe,
luli. Heres fuCh a coile, come what faies Romeo ?'
Nur. Haue you got leaue to go to fhrift to day ?
lu. I haue.
Nur. Then high you hence to frier Lawrence cell.
There dales a huiband to make you a wife :
Now comes the wanton bloud vp in your cheekes,
Thei’le be in fcarlet draight at any newes :
Hie you to church, I mud an other way.
To fetch a ladder by the which your loue
Mud climde a birds nead foone when it is darke
I am the drudge, and toile in your delight ;
^ taunting^
Bat
The most lamentable Tragedie
But you (hall bcarc the burthen foone at night.
Go lie to dinner, hie you to the cell.
lu. Hie to high fortune, honed nurfe farewell.
Exeunt,
Enter Frier and Romeo.
Fri, So fmile the heauens vpon this holy acR,
That after houres, with forrow chide vs not.
Ro. Amen, amen, but come what forrow carj,
It cannot counteruaile the exchange of ioy
That one (hort minute giues me in her fight :
Do thou but clofe our hands with holy words,
Then loue-deuouring death doe what he dare,
It is inongh I may but call her mine.
Fri. Thefe violent delights haue violent endes.
And in their triumph die like fire and powder ;
Which as they kiffe confume. The fweetefi: honey
Is loathfome * in his owne delicioufiieire,
And in the tafie confoundes the appetite.
Therefore loue moderately, long lone doth fo,
Too fwift arriues as tardie as too flow.
Enter luliet.
Here comes the lady, oh fo light a foot
Will nere weare out the euerlafling flint,
A louer may beflride the goflamours.
That ydles in the wanton fommer ayre.
And yet not fall, fo light is vanitie.
lu. Good euen to my ghoflly confeflbr.
Fri. Romeo (hall thanke thee daughter for vs both.
lu.
* iothfcm.'iefs.
OF Romeo and Iuliet.'
lu. As much to him, elfe is * his thanks too much,
Ro. Ah Iiiliet, if the meafure of thy ioy
Be heapt like mine, and that thy skill be more ^ '
To blafon it, then fweeten with thy breath
This neighbour ayre, and let rich mujicke f tongue,
Vnfold the imagin’d happines that both
Receiue in either, by this deare encounter.
lu. Conceit more rich in matter then in words.
Brags of his fubflance, not of ornament.
They are but beggers that can count their worth,
But my true loue is growne to fuch excelTe,
I cannot fum vp fum f of halfe my wealth.
Fri. Come, come with me, and we will make Ihort worke,
For by your leaues, you fhal! not flay alone.
Till holy church incorporate two in one.
Enter Mercutio, Eenuolio, and men.
Ben. I pray thee good Mercutio lets retire,
The day is hot, the Capets § abroad :
And if we meet, we diall not fcape a brawle, for now thefe
hot dayes, is the mad blood Birring.
Mer. Thou art like one of thefe fellowes, that when he
enters the coniines of a tauerne, claps me his fword vpon the
table, and fayes God fend me no need of thee : and by the
operation ol the fecond cup, drawes him on the drawer, when
Indeed there is no need.
Ben. Ami like fuch a fellow ?
Mer , Come, come, thou art as hot a lacke in thy moode,
as any in Italie and alToone moued to be moodie, and aflbone
moodie to be moued.
* in.
Ben.
'I' mufukis.
J pome. § Capulets,
The most lamentable Tragedie
Ben. And what too ?
Mer. Nay and there were two fuch, wee fliould haue none
fliortly, for one would kill the other: thou, why thou wilt
quarrell with a man that hath a haire more, or a haire lefle in
his beard, then thou haft : thou wilt quarrell with a man for
cracking nuts, hauing no other reafon, but becaufe thou haft
hafel eyes : what eye, but fuch an eye, would fpie out fuch a
quarrel ? thy head is as ful of quarrels, as an egge is ful of meat,
and yet thy head hath bin beaten as addle as an egge for quar-
relling : thou haft quareld with a man for coifing in the ftreet,
becaufe he hath wakened thy dog that hath laine afleepc in the
fun. Didft thou not fall out with a tailor, for wearing his new
doublet before Eofter : with another, for tying his new ihoes
‘ with old riband, and yet thou wilt tutor meefrom quarrelling I
Ben. And I were fo apt to quarel as thou art, any man fliould'
buy the fee-fimple of my life, for an houre and a quarter.
Mer. The fee-fimple, O fimple.
Enter Tybalt, Petruchio, ajid others.
Ben. By my head here comes the Capulets.
Mer. By my heele I care not.
T'ybalt. Follow me clofe, for I will fpeake to them.
Gentlemen, good den, a word with one of you.
Mer. And but one word with one of vs ? couple it with
fomthing, make it a w6rd and a blow.
Ti. You ftiall.iind me apt inough to that fir, and you wil
glue me occafion.
Mercut. Could you not take fome occafion, without glu-
ing.
Ti. Mercutio thou conforteft with Romeo.
Mer. Confort, what doft thou make vs minftrels ? and
thou make minftrels of vs, looke to heare nothing but difcords,
heeres
/
OF Romeo and IulietV
heeres my fiddleflicke, heeres that fhall make you daunces
Zounds confort.
Ben. We talke here In the publike haunt of men :
Either withdraw vnto fome priiiate place,
Or reafon coldly of your greuances ;
Or elfe depart, here all eies gaze on vs.
Mer. Mens eyes were made to looke, and let them gaze. '
I will not budge' for no mans pleafure L
Enter Romeo.
Ti. Well peace be with you fir, here comes my man : '
Mer. But He be hangd fir if he weare your liuery :
Marry go before to field, heele be your follower.
Your worfhip in that fenfe may call him man.
Tyb. RomeOy the loue I beare thee, can affoord
No better terme then this : thou art a vILlaine.
Ro. Tibaltj the reafon that I haue to loue thee,
Doth much excufe the appertaining rage
To fuch a greeting : villaine am I none.
Therefore farewell I fee thou knowefl me not.
Ti. Boy, this fhall not excufe the iniurles
That thou hafi: done me therefore turne and draw.
Ro. I do protefi: I neuer iniured thee.
But loue thee better then thou canfi: deuife :
Till thou fhalt know the reafon of my loue.
And fo good Capidety which name I tender
As dearely as my owne, be fatisfied.
Mer. O calme, di (honourable, vile fubmifiion :
Alla Jlucatho carries it away,
Tibalty you ratcatcher, will you walke ?
Ti. What woulds thou haue with me ?
M. Good king of cats, no thing but-one of your nine Hues,
VoL. IV. I that
f
The most lamentable Tracedie
that I meane to make bold withall, and as you fliall vfe me
hereafter dry Beate the reft of the eight. Will you pluck your
fword out of his pilcher by the eares ? make haft, leaft mine
be about your cares ere it be out.
7/. I am for you.
Ro. Gentle Mercutioy put thy rapier vp.
Mer. Come fir your paftado.
Ro. Draw Beniiolioy beat downe their weapons,
, Gentlemen, for fharae forbeare this outrage,
Tibalt, Mercutioj the prince exprefly hath
Forbid bandying in Verona ftreetes.
Hold Tibalty good Merentio,
Away Tybalt.
Mer. I am hurt.
A plague a both houfes, I am fped.
Is he gone and hath nothing ?
Ben. What art thou hurt ?
Mer. I, I, a fcratch, a fcratch, marry tls Inough,
Where is my page ? goe villaine fetch a furgeon'
Ro. Courage man, the hurt cannot be much.
Mer. No tis not fo deepe as a well, nor fo wide as a church
doore, but tis inough, twill ferue : afke for me to morrow,
and you fliall find me a graue man. I am peppered I warrant,
for this world, a plague a both your houfes, founds a dog, a
rat, a moufe, a cat to fcratch a man to death, a braggart, a
rogue, a villaine, that fights .by the booke of arithmetick,
why the deu’le came you betweene vs ? I was hurt vnder your
arme.
Ro. I thought all for the beft.
Mer. Helpe me into fome houfe BenuoUo,
Of I- fliall faint, a plague a both your houfes.
They
OF Romeo and Iuliet.’
They haue made wormes meat of me,
I haue it, and foundly to yoHr honfes.— -
Ro, This gentleman the princes neare alie.
My very friend hath gott his mortall hurt
In my behalfe, my reputation ftaind
With Tibalts flaunder, Tibalt that an houre
Hath beene my cozin, O fweet luliet.
Thy beauty hath made me effeminate,
And in my temper foftned valours Ifeele.
Enter Benuolio,
Ben, O Romeo ^ Romeo ^ braue Mercutio is dead.
That gallant fpirit hath afpir’d the cloudes, *
Which too vntimely here did fcorne the earth.
Ro. This dales blacke fate, on mo dales doth depend.
This but begins, the wo others rnufl end.
Ben, Here comes the furious Tibalt backe againe.
Ro. He gon in triumph and Mercutio flaine.
Away to heauen refpediue lenitie.
And fier and fury, be my conduft.now,
Now Tibalt take the villaiiie back againe.
That late thou gauefl: me, for Mercutios foule ’ >
Is but a little way aboue our heads,
Staying for thine to keepe him companie :
Either thou or I, or both, muft goe with him.
Ti. Thou wretched boy that didfl confort him here,
Shalt with him hence.
Ro. This fhall determine that.
They fght, Tibalt falles.] ^
Ben.' Romeo y away be gone :
The citizens are vp, and Tibalt flaine,
I 2.
Stand
The most lamentable Tragedie
StanJ not amazed, the prince will doome thee death.
If thou art taken, hence be gone away.
Ro. O I am fortunes foole.
Ben. Why doft thou ftay ? Exit Romeo.
Enter Citizens.
Citi. Which way ran he that kild Mercutio ?
Tibalt that murthercr, which way ran he ?
Benu. There lies that Tibalt.
Citi. Vp fir go with me :
I charge thee in the princes name obey.
Enter j>rince, old Mountague, Capulet, their 'iviues and
all
Prin. Where arc the vile beginners of this fray ?
Ben. O noble prince, I can difeouer all :
The vnluckie mannage of this fatall brail,
There lies the man flaine by young Romeot
That flew thy kinfman braue Mercutio.
Capu. Wi. Tibalt my cozin, O my brothers child,
O prince, O cozin, hufband, O the bloud is fpild .
Of my deare kinfman, prince as thou art true,
For bloud of ours, fhead bloud of Meuntague.
O cozin, cozin.
Prin. Benuolio, who began this fray ?
Ben. Tibalt here flaine, whom Romeos hand did flay,
Romeo that fpoke him faire, bid him bethinke
How nice the quarrell was, and vrg’d withall
Your high difpleafure all this vttered.
With gentle breath, calme looke, knees humbly bowed
Could not take truce with the vnruly fpleene
Of Tybalt deafe to peace, but that he tilts
With peircing fleele at bold Mercutios breafl.
Who
OF Romeo and Iuliet<
Who all as hot, tiirnes deadly point to point.
And witTi a martiall fcorne, with one hand beates
Cold death a fide, and with the other fends
It back to Tib alt, whofe dexterity
Retorts it, Romeo he cries aloud.
Hold friends, friends part, and fwifter then his tongue.
His aged * arme beats downe their fatall points,
And twixt them rufhcs, vnderneth whole arme.
An enuious thruft from Tibalt, hit the life
Of flout Mercutio, and then Tibalt fled,
But by and by comes backe to Romeo,
Who had but newly entertained reuenge,
And toote they goe like lightning, for ere I
Could draw to part them, was flout Tibalt flaine :
And as he fell, did Romeo turne and flie.
This is the truth, or let BemioHo die.
Ca, Wi, He is a kinfman to the Mount ague,
AfFeclion makes him falfe, he fpeakes not true :
Some twenty of them fought in this blacke flrife.
And all thofe twenty could but kill one life.
I beg for iuflice which thou prince muft glue ;
Romeo flew Tibalt, Romeo mufl not liuc.
Prin> Romeo flew him, he flew Mercutio, '
Who now the price of his deare bloud doth owe.
Cap. Not Romeo prince, he was Mercutios friend.
His fault concludes, but what the law fhould end, '
The life of Tibalt,
Prin. And for that offence,
Immediately we doe exile him hence :
I haue an intereft in your hearts proceeding.
My bloud for your rude brawles doth lie a bleeding.
But He amerce you with fo flrong a fine.
That you fhall all repent the Ioffe of mine.
* agiU,
The most lamentable Tragedie
It * will be dcafe to pleading and excufes,
Nor teares, nor prayers fhall purchafe out abufes.
Therefore vfe none, let Romeo hence in haft,
Elfe when he is found, that houre is his\ laft.
Beare hence this body, and attend our will,
Mercy but murders, pardoning thofe that kill. Exit,
Enter luliet alone.
Gallop apace, you fiery footed fteedes,
'Tow^irds Phcebiis lodging, fuch a wagoner
As Phaeton would whip yon to the weft.
And bring in clowdie night immediately.
Spread thy clofe curtaiiie loue>performing night,
That runnawayes eyes may wincke, and Romeo
Leape to thefe armes, vntalkt of and vnfecne,
Loucrs can fee to doe their amorous rights,
Jnd t by their owne beauties, or if loue be § blind.
It beft agrees with night, come ciuill night, *
Thou fober futed matron ail in blacke.
And learne me how to loofe a winning match,
Plaid for a paire of ftainleffe maidenhoods ||,
Hood my vnmand blood bay ting in my cheekes,
With thy blacke mantle, till ftrange loue grow bold,
Thinke true loue a<ftcd ftmple modeftie :
Come night, come Romeo y come thou day in night.
For thou wilt lie vpon the wings of night.
Whiter then new ** fnow vpon a rauens backe :
Come gentle night, come lotting blackbrowd night.
Giue me my Romeo y and when /ft fhall die,
Take him and cut him out in little ftarres.
And he will make the face of heauen fo fine.
That all the world will ff be in loue with night.
*/.
\tbe.
J ojnitted, § of loue ico. 1| maiden beads,
be, pall.
new omitted.
And
OF Romeo and Iuliet.
And pay no wordiip to the garifli fun.
O I haue bought the manfion of a loue.
But not pofTeft it, and though I am fold,
Not yet enioy’d, fo tedious is this day,
As is the night before fome feftiuall.
To an impatient child that hath new robes
And may not weare them, O here comes my nurfe.
Enter NuiTe with cords.
And fhe bring newes, and euery tongue that fpeaks
But Romeos name, fpeakes heaucnly eloquence :
Now nurfe, what newes ? what haft thou there.
The cords that Romeo bid thee fetch ?
Nur. I, I, the cords.
hdiet. Ay me, what newes ? why doff thou wring thy
hands :
Nur. A weladay, hees dead, hees dead, hecs dead.
We are vndone lady, we are vndone.
A lacke the day, hees is gone, hees kild, hees dead.
lu. Can heauen be foenuious.
Nur^ Romeo can.
Though heauen cannot. O Romeo, Romeo,
Who euer would haue thought it Romeo.
lu. What diuell art thou, that doll: torment me thus ?
This torture fiiould be rored in difmall hell.
Hath Romeo flaine himfelfe ? fay thou but I
And that bare vowell I fhall poyfon more
Then the death-darting eye of cockatrice,
I am not I, if there be fuch an I.
Or thofe eyes fhot, that makes thee anfwere I :
If he be flaine fay I, or if not, no.
Briefe, founds, determine my weale or wo.
Nur, I faw the wound, I faw it with mine eyes,
God faue the marke, here on his manly bred,
I4
A piteous
The most lamentable Tragedie
A piteous coarfe, a bloody piteous coarfe.
Pale, pale as alhes, all bedavjbde * in blood.
All in gore blood, I founded f at the fight.
III. O breake my heart, poore banckrout breake at once.
To prifon eyes, iiere looke on libertie.
Vile earth to earth rcfigne, end motion here.
And thou and Romeo prefiTe on heauie beare.
Nur. O Tybalt y Tybalt, the beft friend I had,
O curteous Tybalt honed gentleman.
That euer I fhould Hue to fee thee dead.
111. What dorme is this that blovves fo contrarie ?
Is Romeo daughtred ? and is Tybalt dead I
My deared cozen, and my dearer lord.
Then dreadfull trumpet found the generall doome.
For who is lining, if thofe two are gone ?
Nur, Tybalt is gone, and Romeo bauldied,
Romeo that kild him he is banidied.
Iiiliet, O God, did Romeos hand died Tybalts blood \
if It did, it did, alas the day, it did,
Nur. O ferpent heart, hid with a flowring face,
lu. Did euer dragon keepe fo faire a caue ?
Beautifull tyrant, fiend angelicall ;
Rauenous douefeatherd rauen, woluidi-rauening lambe,
Defpifed fyibfiance of diuinefl: diow :
lufl oppofite to what thou iuflly feem’fl:,
A dimme § faint, an honourable villaine :
O nature, what hadfl: thou to doe in hell.
When thou didll; bower || the fpirit of a fiend
In moftall paradife of fuch fweet flefli ?
Was euer booke containing fuch vile matter
* bedea'Lvd, "f fivozvntd.
J This line is giuen to the nurfe, and the following one begins Juliet'% fpeech
in the edition of 1637.
I dt^mr.fd. If pQure,
So
OF Romeo and Iuliet.
So fairely bound ? O that deceit fhoiild dwell
In fuch a gorgeous pallace.
Nur. Theres no trull, no faith, no honeflie in men,
All periurde, all forfworne, all naught, all diffemblers.
Ah wheres my man ? giue me fome aqua-vit^ ?
Thefe grlefes, thefe woes, thefe forrowes make me old.
Shame come to Romeo,
III, Bliftered be thy tongue
For fuch a wilh, he was not borne to fhame :
, Vpon his brow fhame is afham’d to fit s
For tis a throane where honour may be crownd
Sole monarch of the vniuerfall earth
O what a beafl was I to chide at him ?
Nur, Will you fpeake well of him that kild your cozin
7w, Shall 1 fpeake ill of him that is my hufl'>and ?
Ah poore my lord, what tongue fhall fmooth thy name.
When I thy 'brce houres wife haue mangled it \
But wherefore villaine didfl thou kill my cozin ?
That villaine cozin would haue kild my hulband :
Backe foolhh teares, backe to your natiue fpring,
Your tributarie drops belong to woe.
Which you mihaking offer vp to ioy,
My hufband hues that Tihalt would haue flaine.
And Tibalts dead that would haue flaine my huiband :
All this is comfort, wherefore weepe I then :
Some words there was worfer then Tibalts death
That murdred me, I would forget it faine.
But oh it preffes to my memory,
Like damned guilty deedes to finners minds,
Tibalt is dead and Romeo banilhed :
That banifhed, that one word banifhed.
Hath flaine ten thoufand Tibalts : Tibalts death
Was woe inough if it had ended there ;
The most lamentable Tragedie
Or if fower woe delights in fellowfhip,
And needly will be wranckt with other griefes.
Why followed not when fhe faid Tibalts dead.
Thy father or thy mother,* nay or both,
Which moderne lamentation might haue moued,
But with a reareward following Tibalts death,
Romeo is banifhed to fpeake that word,
Is father, mother, Tibalt, Romeo, luliety
All flaine, all dead : Romeo is baniflied.
There is no end, no limit, meafure, bound.
In that words death, no words can that woe found.
Where is my father and my mother nui fe ?
Nur. Weeping and wailing ouer Tibalts courfe.
Will yoii go to them : I will bring you thither.
lu. Wafh they his wounds with teares : mine fliall be fpent
When theirs are drie, for Romeos banillrment.
Take vp thofe cordes, poore ropes you are beguild,
Both you and I for Romeo is exild :
He made you for a higH-way to my bed.
But I amaide, die maiden widowed.
Come cord, come nurfe. He to my wedding bed.
And death, not Romeo, take my maiden head.
Nur, Hie to your chamber. He find Romeo
To comfort you, I wot well where he is :
Harke ye, your Romeo will be heare at night.
He to him, he is hid at Lawrence cell.
lu. O find him, giue this ring to my true knight,
And bid him come, to take his lafl farewell. Rxit.
Enter Frier and Romeo.
Fri, Romeo, come forth, come forth thou fearful! man,
Affliction is enamor’d of thy parts:
And thou art wedded to calamitie.
.
OF Romeo and Iuliet.
Ro. Father what newes i what is the princes doome
What forrow cranes acquaintance at my hand,
That I yet know not ?
jpri. Too familiar
Is my deare fonne with fuch fowre company ?
I bring thee tidings of the princes doome.
Ro. What lefTe then doomefday is the princes doome
Fri. A gentler iudgement vanilht from his lips.
Not bodies death, but bodies banilhment.
Ro. Ha, banhhment ? be mercifull, fay death :
For exile hath more terror in his looke.
Much more then death, do not fay banifhment.
Fri. Here from Verona art thou baniOied: ,
Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.
Ro. There is no world without Verona walles.
But purgatorie, torture, hell it felfe :
Hence baniflied, is baniflit from the world.
And worlds exile is death. Then banilhed
Is death, miheai’md, calling death banidied,
Thou cutfl my head off with a golden axe.
And fmileh: vpon the ftroke that murders me.
Fri. O deadly fin, O rude vnthankefulnefTe,
Thy fait our law calles death, but the kind prince
Taking thy part, hath rnfht afide the law.
And turnd that blacke word death to banifhment.
This is deare mercy, and thou feeft it not.
Tis torture and not mercy, heauen is here
Where Iuliet Hues and euery cat and dog,
And little moufe, euery vnworthy thing
Line here in heauen and may looke on her.
But Romeo may not. More vallditie,
More honourable Hate, more courtfhip Hues
In carrion flies, then Romeo : they may feaze
The most lamentable Tragedie
On the white wonder of deare luliets hand.
And fteale immortall blefling from her lips,
Who cuen in pure and veftall modeflie
Still bludi, as thinking their owne kifles /in.
This may flies doc, when I from this muft flie.
And faifl: thou yet that exile is not death ?
But Romeo may not, hce is baniflied.
Flies may doe this, but I from this mufl: flie :
They are freemen, but I am banifhed.
Had/l thou no poyfon mixt no /harp ground knife.
No fudden meane of death, though nere fo meane.
But baniflied to kill me : baniflied ?
O frier, the damned vfe that word in hell :
Howling attends it, how haft thou the heart
Being a diuine, a ghoftly confelTor,
A fin obfoluer, and my friend profeft,
To mangle me with that word baniflied ?
¥ri. Then fond mad man, here me a little fpeake.
Ro. O thou wilt fpeake againe of banilhment.
Tri. He giue thee armour to keepe off that word,
AdueiTities fweete milke, philofophie.
To comfort thee though thou art banifhed.
Ro, Yet baniflied ? hang vp philofophie,
VnleflTe philofophie can make a luliets
Difplant a towne, reuerfe a princes doome.
It helpes not, it preuailes not, talke no more.
Fri. O then I fee, that mad men haue no eares.
Ro. How fliould they, when wife men haue no eyes.
Fri. Let me difpute with thee of thy eftate.
Ro. Thou canft not fpeake of that thou doft not feele
Wert thou as young as I, Iiiliet thy loue,
An hour but married, Tibalt murdered,
Doting like me, and like me baniflied,
OF Romeo and Iuliet,
Then mighteft thou fpeake,
Then mighteft thou teare thy hayre.
And fall vpon the ground as I do now.
Taking the meafure of an vnmade graue.
Enter Nurfe, and"^ knockes,
. Fri. Arife one knocks, good Romeo hide thy felfe,
Ro. Not I, vnlefTe the breath of hartficke grones
Mill' like infold me from the fearch of eyes.
They knocke.
Fri, Harke how they knocke (whofe there) Romeo arife.
Thou wilt be taken, (ftay a while) fland vp,
Slud knocke. f
Run to my Rudy by and by j:, Gods will
What fimplenelfe is this : I come, I come.
Knocke,
Who knocks fo hard ? whence come you \ whats your will >
Enter Nurfe.
Nur, Let me come in, and you Ihall know my errant :
I come from lady luliet,
Fri. Welcome then.
Nur.^ O holy frier, O tell me holy frier,
Wheres my ladies lord, wheres Romeo ^
, Fri. There on the ground,
With his owne teares made drunke.
Nur. O he is euen in my miRreffe cafe, .
luR in her cafe. O wofull fimpathy :
* Enter y and, omitted, f knock agame, J (hy and by )
Pitlous
The most lamentable Tragedic
Pitlous predicament, euen fo lies fhe,
Blubbrlng and weeping, weeping and blubbring,
Stand vp, Aand vp, ftand and you be a man.
For luliets fcake, for her fake rife and ftand :
Why fhould you fall into fo deepe an O ;
Rom. Nurfe.
Nur. Ah fir, ah fir, deaths * the end of all.
'Ro. Spakefl: thou of luliet P how is it f with her ?
Doth not fhe thinke me an old murtherer,
Now I haue flaind the childhood J of our ioy.
With blood remoued, but little from her owne ?
Where is fhe ? and how doth fhe ? and what fayes
My conceald lady to our canceld loue ?
Ntir. O fhe fayes nothing fir, but weeps and weeps,
And now fals on her bed, and then ftarts vp,
And Tybalt calls, and then on Romeo cries.
And then downe falls againe.
Ro. As if that name fliot from the deadly leuell of a gun.
Did murther her, as that names curfed hand
Murdred her kinfman. Oh tell me frier, tell me,
In what vile part of this anatomic
Doth my name lodge ? Tell me, that I may facke
The hatefull manfion. -
Fri. Hold thy defperate hand :
Art thou a man ? thy forme cries out thou art :
Thy teares are womanifh, thy wild afis deuote
The vnreafonable furie of a beafl.
Vnfeemely woman in a feeming man,
And ill befeeming bead: in feeming both,
Thou haft amaz’d me. By my holy order,
I thought thy difpofition better temperd.
Haft thou flaine Tybalt P wilt thou flay thy felfe ?
And flay thy lady, that in thy life lies,
* death is. f //?. | cbildhead.
By
OF Romeo and Iuliet;
By doing damned hate vpon thy felfe ?
Why ray left thou on thy birth ? the heauen and earth
Since birth, and heauen and earth, all three doe meet
In thee at'once, which thou at once wouldft loofe.
Fie, fie, thou fhameft thy fliape, thy loue, thy wit.
Which like a vfurer aboundft in all :
And vfeft none in that true vfe indeed,
Which ftiould bedecke thy ftiape, thy loue, thy wit :
Thy noble ftiape, is but a forme of waxe,
DifgrelTing from the valour of a man.
Thy deare loue fworne but hollow perfurie
Killing that loue which thou haft vowd to cherifti.
Thy wit, that ornament, to ftaape and loue,
Miftiapen in the condu6l of them both :
Like powder in a flcilleffe fouldiers flafkc,
Is fet a fier by thine owne ignorance.
And thou difmembred with thine owne defence.
What rowfe thee man, thy Iuliet is aliue.
For whofe deare fake thou waft but lately dead.
There art thou happy, Tibalt would kill thee.
But thou fleweft Tibalt^ there art thou happie.
The law that threatned death becomes thy friend,
And turne it to exile, there art thou happy.
A packe of blefting light vpon thy backe,
Happineffe courts thee in her beft array.
But like a mijhaued * and fullen wench.
Thou puts vp f thy fortune and thy loue :
Take heede, take heede, for fuch die miferable,
Goe get thee to thy loue as was decreed,
Afcend her chamber, hence and comfort her :
But looke thou ftay not till the watch be fet.
For then thou canft not pafte to Mantua,
Where thou ftialt hue till wee can find a 'time
* miihebavtd, ■f poutji upon, J thf
The most lamentable Tragedie
To blaze your marriage reconcile your friends.
Beg pardon of thy f prince and call thee backe,
With twenty hundred thoufand times more ioy
Then thou wenill forth in lamentation.
Goe before nurfe, commend me to thy lady,
And bid her haften all the houfe to bed,
Which heauy forrow makes them apt vnto,
Romeo is comming.
Nur. O Lord, I could haue ft aid here all the night.
To heare good counfell, oh what learning is :
My lord. He tell my lady you will come.
Ro, Do fo, and bid my fweete prepare to chide.
Nur, Here fir, a ring ftie bid me giue you fir :
Hie you, make hafte, for it growes very late.
Ro, How well my comfort is reuiu’d by this.
Fri, Go hence, goodnight, and here ftands all your ftatc :
Either be gone before the watch be fet.
Or by the breake of day difguifd from hence,
Soiourne in Mantua, He find out your man.
And he fhall fignifie from time to time,
Euery good hap to you, that chaunces here :
Giue me thy hand, tis late, farewell, goodnight.
Ro, But that a ioy paft ioy calls out on me.
It were a griefe, fo briefe to part with thee :
Farewell. Exeunt»
Enter old Capulet, his wife and Paris.-
Ca, Things haue falne out fir fo vnluckily.
That we haue had no time to moue our daughter,
Looke you, fhe lou’d her kinfman Tybalt dearely.
And fo did I. Well we were borne to die.
Tis very late, fheele not come downe to night :
« th
I promife
OF Romeo and Iuliet.
I'promife you, but for your company,
I would haue bin a bed an houre ago.
Paris. Thefe times of wo, affoord no times to wooe 5
Madam goodnight, commend me to your daughter.
La, I will, and know her mind early to morrow.
To night fhe is mewed vp to her heauines.
Ca. Sir Parisy I will make a defperate tender
Of my childes loue : I thinke die will be rulde
In all refpe<5ls by me : nay more, I doubt it not.
Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed;
Acquaint her hereof my fonne Paris loue,
And bid her, marke you me, on Wcndfday next.
But foft, what day is this ?
Paris. Monday my lord.
. Ca. Monday, ha ha, well Wendfday is too foone,
A Thurfday let it be, a Thurfday tell her.
She fhall be married to this noble earle :
Will you be ready ? do you like this hade ?
Weele keepe no great adoe, a friend or two, '
For harke you, Tybalt being llaine fo late.
It may be thought we held him carelefly.
Being our kinfman, if we reuell much ;
Therefore weele haue fome halfe a dozen friends.
And there an end, but what fay you to Thurfday ?
Paris. My lord, I would that Thurfday were to morrow.
Ca. Well, get you gone, a Thurfday, be it then ;
Go you to Iuliet ere you go to bed.
Prepare her wife, againfl this wedding day. '
Farewell my lord, light to my chamber ho.
Afore me, it is fo very late, that me may call it early by and by,
Goodnight. Exeunt,
Enter Romeo and Iuliet aloft,
lu. Wilt thou be gone ? It is not yet neare day :
* herewith.
K
VoL. IV.
It
The most lamentable Tragedie
It was the nightingale, and not the larke,
That pierH: the fcarefiill hollow of thine eare.
Nightly (he fings on yond pomgranet tree,
Beleeue me lone, it was the nightingale.
Ro. It was the larke the herauld of the morne.
No nightingale, looke lone what enuious ftreakes
Do lace the feuering cloudes in yonder eafl: :
Nights candles are burnt out, and iocond day
Stands tipto on the myftie mountaines tops,
I muff be gone and line, or ilay and die.
lu. Yond light is not day light, J know it I:
It is fome meteor that the fun exhales,
To be to thee this night a torch-bearer.
And light thee on thy way to Mantua,
Therefore flay yet, thou needll not to be gone.
Ro, Let me be tane, let me be put to death,
I am content, fo thou wilt haue it fo.
He fay yon gray is not the mornings eye,
Tis but the pale reflexe of Cinthias brow.
Nor that is not the larke whole noates doe beate
The vaulty heauen fo high aboue our heads,
I haue more care to flay then will to go :
Come death and welcome, Iiilict wills it fo.
How iff my foule, lets talke it is not day.
Ill, It is, it is, hie hence be gone away ;
It is the larke that fings fo out of tune.
Straining harfli difcords, and vnpleafing (harpes.
Some fay the larke makes fwecte diuifion.
This doth not fo : for fhe deuideth vs.
Some fay the larke and loathed toad change eyes,
O now I would they had changde voyces too :
Since arme from arme that voyce doth vs affray,
Hunting thee hence, with huntfup to the day,
O now be- gone, more light and light it growes.
More light and light, more darke and darkeour woes.
Enter
OF Romeo and Iuliet.
Enter madame ^z/z^/Nurfe.
Nur. Madam.
lu. Nurfe.
Nur. Your lady mother Is cumming to your chamber;
The day is broke, be wary, looke about.
lu. Then window let day in, and let life out.
Ro. Farewell, farewell, one kilTe and He defcend.
lu. Art thou gone fo, loue, lord, ay hulband, friend,
I muff heare from thee euery day in the houre,
For in a minute there are many dales,
0 by tbis count I fhall be much in yeares,
Ere I agalne behold my Romeo.
Ro. Farewell :
1 will omit no oportunitle.
That may conuey my greetings loue to thee.
lu. O thinkeft thou we /hall euer meete agalne
Ro. I doubt it not, and all thefe woes fhall ferue
For fweete difcourfes in our time to come.
Ro. O God I haue an ill diuining foule,
Me thinkes I fee thee now, thou art fo lowe,
As one dead in the bottome of a tombe,
Either my eye-fight fades, or thou lookefl pale.
Ro?n. And truft me loue. In my eye fo doe you :
Drie forrow drinkes our bloud. Adue, adue.
lu. O fortune, fortune, all men call thee fickle,
If thou art fickle, what doff thou with him
That is renowmd for faith ? be fickle fortune ;
For then I hope thou wilt not keepe him long,
Hut fend him backe.
Enter mother.
La, Ho daughter, are you vp ?
lu. Who ill that calls ? it is my lady mother.
The most lamentable Tragedie
Is fhc not downe fo late or vp To early ?
What vnaccuftomd caufe procures her either* ?
La. Why how now Juliet.
III. Madam I am not well.
La. Euermore weeping for your cozins death ?
What wilt thou walh him from his graue with teares ?
And if thou couldft, thou could/f not make him Hue :
Therefore haue done, fomc griefe fliewes much of loue.
But much of griefe, fliewes Hill fome want of wit.
Ju. Yet let me weepe, for fnch a feeling loflTc,
La. So ihall you feele the loITe, but not the friend
Which you weepe for.
Ju., Feeling fo the Ioffe,
I cannot chufe buteuer weepe the friend.
La. Wellgirle, thou weepH not fo much for his death.
As that the villaine Hues which flaughtered him.
Ju. What villaine madam ?
La. That fame villaine Romeo.
Ju. Villaine and he be many miles a funder :
God pardon, I doe withall my heart :
And yet no man like he, doth grieue my heart.
La. That is becaufe the traitor lines.
Ju. I madam from the reach of thefe my hands :
Would none but I might venge my cozins death.
La. We will haue vengeance for it, feare thou not.
Then weepe no more. He fend to one in Mantua^
Where that fame banifht runnagate doth Hue,
Shall giue him fuch an vnaccuflomd dram,
That he fliall foone keepe Tibalt company :
And then I hope thou wilt be fatisfied.
Ju. Indeede I neuer fhall be fatisfied
With RomeOj till I behold him. Dead
Is my poore heart fo for a kinfman vext :
Madam if you could find out but a man
* iuber.
To
OF Romeo and Iuliet.
To beare a poyfon, I would temper it :
That Romeo fliould vpon receit thereof,
Soone fleepe in quiet. O how my heart abhors
To hear£ him namde and cannot come to him.
To wreake the loue I bore my cozin,
Vpon his body that hath flaughtered him.
Mo, Find thou the meanes, and He find fuch a man.
But now lie tell thee ioyfull tidings gyrle.
III. And ioy comes well in fuch a needy lime,
What are they^, befeech your ladyfiiip ?
M. Well, well, thou haft a carefull father child.
One who to put thee from thy heauines.
Hath forted out a fudden day of ioy,
That thou expecTts not, nor 1 lookt not for.
III. Madam in happy time, what day is that ?
M, Marry my child, early next Thurfday morne.
The gallant, young, and noble gentleman.
The countie Paris at faint Peters church,
Shall happly make thee there a ioyfull bride.
lu. Now by faint Peters church, and Peter too,
He fhall not make me there a ioyfull bride.
I wonder at this haft, that I muff wed
Ere he that fiould f be hufband comes to wooe :
I pray you tell my lord and father madam,
I will not marrie yet, and when I doe, I fweare
It fhall be Romeo, whom you know I hate
Rather then Paris, thefe are newes indeede.
M. Here comes your father, tell him fo your felfe :
And fee how he will take it at your hands.
Enter Capulet and Nurfe.
Ca. When the fun fets, the earth doth drifle deaw.
But for the funfet of my brothers fonne,
It raines downright. How now a conduit glrle, what Bill in
teares.
* they, L f mji,
K 3 Euermore
The most lamentable Tragedie
Euermore fhowring in one little body ?
Thou counterfaits. A barkc, a fea, a wind :
For flill thy eyes, which I may call the fca,
Doe ebbe and flow with teares, the barke thy body is :
Sayling in this fait floud, the windes thy fjghes,
Who raging with thy teares and they with them,
Without a fudden calme will ouer fet
Thy tempefl: tofled body. How now wife,
Haue you deliuered to her our decree ?
La. I fir, but flie will none, fhe giues you thankes,
I would the foole were married to her graue.
Ca. Soft take me with you, take me with you wife.
How will Ihee none ? doth fhe not giue vs thanks ?
Is fhe not proud ? doth fhe not count her blefl:,
Vnworthy as flie is, that we haue wrought
So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroome ?
III. Not proud you haue, but thankfull that you haue :
Proud can I neuer be of what I hate.
But thankfull euen for hate, that is meant lone.
Ca. How now, how now, chopt lodgick, what is this ?
Proud and I thanke you, and I thanke you not, |
And yet not proud mifiriffe minion you ?
Thanke me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds.
But fettle your fine ioints gainfl: Thurfday next,
To go with Paris to faint Peters church :
Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.
Out you greene ficknefle carrion, out you baggage,
You tallow face.
La. Fie, fie, what are you mad ?
In. Good father, I befeech you on my knees.
If care me with patience, but to fpeake a word.
Fa. Hang thee young baggage, difobedlent wretch, '
I tell thee what, get thee to church a Thurfday,
Or neuer after looke.me in the face.
* ibati tr.eant in.
Speake
OF Romeo and Juliet.
Speake not, replie not, donot-anfwere me.
My fingers itch, wife, we fcarce thought vs bleft,
That God had lent vs but this onely child.
But now I fee this one is one too much,
And that we haue a curfe in hauing her ;
Out on her hilding.
> Nur, God in heauen blefle her :
You are too blame my lord to rate her fo.
Fa. And why my lady wifdom, hold your tongue.
Good prudence, fmatter with your goffips, go.
Nur, I fpeake no treafon,
^ Father, O godigeden,
May not one fpeake ?
Fa. Peace you mumbling foole,
Vtter yourgrauitie ore a goflips bowle.
For here we need it not.
IVi. You are too hot.
Fa. Gods bread, it makes me mad,
Day, night, houre, tide, time, worke, play.
Alone in companie, fbll my care hath bin
To haue her matcht, and hauing now prouided
A gentleman of noble parentage.
Of faire demeanes, youthfull and nobly allied,
Stuft^zj they fay\ with honourable parts.
Proportioned as ones thought would wifh a man.
And then to haue a wretched puling foole,
A whining mammet, in her fortunes tender.
To anfwere. He not wed, I cannot loue ;
I am too young, I pray you pardon me.
But and you will not wed. He pardon you,
Graze where you will, you fhall not houfe with me ;
Looke too’t, thinke on’t, I do not vfe to ieft.
* This line is given to the father, and the following one to the nurfe,
"f fas they fay.)
K 4 Thurfday
The most lamentable Tragedie
Thurfday is neere, lay hand on heart, aduife,
And you be mine, Ilegiue you to my friend,
And you be not, hang, beg, flame, dye in the flreets,
For by my foule, He nere acknowledge thee.
Nor what is mine fhall neuer doe thee good :
Trufl too’t, bethinke you. He not be forfworne. Exit,
luliet. Is there no pitie fitting in the cloudes,
That fees into the bottome of my griefe ?
0 fweet my mother cafl: me not away.
Delay this marriage, for a month, a weeke.
Or if you do not, make the bridall bed
In that dim monument where Tibalt lies.
Mo. Talke not to me, for He not fpeake a word,
Do as thou wilt, for I haue done with thee. Exit,
luliet. O God. O nurfe, how fhall this be preuented ?
My hufband is on earth, my faith in heauen,
How fhall that faith returne againe to earth,
Vnlefle that hufband fend it me from heauen.
By leaning earth ? comfort me, counfaile me :
Alacke, alacke, that heauen flrould praflife ftratagems
Vpon fo foft a fubiefl as my felfe.
What faifl thou, haft thou not a word of ioy ?
Some comfort nurfe.
Nur. Faith here it is, Romeo is baniflied, and all the world
to nothing,
That he dares nere come backe to challenge you :
Or if he do, it needs mufl be by Health.
Then fince the cafe fo Hands as now it doth,
1 thinke it beH you married with the countie, *
0 hees a louely gentleman :
Romeos a difhclout to him, an eagle madam
Hath not fo greene, fo quicke, fo faire an eye
As Paris hath, befhrow my very heart,
1 thinke you are happy in this fecond match,
OF Romeo and Iuliet.
For it excels your firfl, or if it did not,
Your firfl: is dead, or twere as good he were,
As lining here and you no vfe of him.
lu. Speakefl thou from thy heart ?
Nur, And from my foule too, or elfe befhrew them both,
lu. Amen.
Nur. What ?
lu. Well thou haft comforted me maruailous much.
Go in, and tell my lady I am gone,
Hauing difpleafde my father, to Lawrence cell.
To make confeffion, and to be abfolu’d.
Nur. Marrie I will, and this is wifely done.
lu. Auncient damnation, O moft wicked fiend.
Is it more fin to wifii me thus forfworne,
Or to difpraife my lord with that fame tongue.
Which (he hath praifde him with aboue compare.
So many thoufand times ? Goe counfellor.
Thou and my bofome henceforth fhall be twainc :
He to the frier to know his remedie.
If all elfe faile, my felfe haue power to die. ExiU
Enter Frier and countie Paris.
Fri. On Thurfday fir, the time is very fliort.
Pa, My father Capidet will haue it fo.
And I am nothing fiow to flacke his haft.
Fri. You fay you doe not know the ladies minde ?
Vneuen is the courfe, I like it not.
Pa. Immoderately ftie weepes for Tibalts death,
And therefore haue I little talke of loue.
For V mus fmiles not in a houfe of teares,
Now fir, her father counts it dangerous
That fhe doth giue her forrow fo much fway :
And in his wifedpme hafts our manage.
To
The most lamentable Tragedie
To flop the inundation of her teares.
Which too much minded by her felfe alone.
May be put from her by focietie.
Now doe you know the reafon of this hafl ?
Fri. I would I knew not why it fhould be flowed.
Looke fir here comes the lady towards my cell.
Enter luliet.
Par. Happily met my lady and my wife.
lu. That may be fir, when I may be a wife.
Pa. That may be, muft be loue, on Thurfday next.
III. What muff be fhali be.
Fri. Thats a certaine text.
Par. Come you to make confefTion to this father ?
lu. To anfwere that, I fliould confefle to you.
Pa. Do not denie to him, that you loue me.
III. I will confefTe to you that I loue him.
Par. So will ye, I am fure that you loue me.
lu. If I do fo, it will be of more price.
Being fpoke behind your backe, then to your face.
Par. Poore foule thy face is much abufd with teares.
III. The teares haue got fmali vi(fl:orie by that.
For it was bad inough before their fpight.
Pa. Thou wrongft it more then teares with that report.
lu. That isnoflaunder fir, which is a truth.
And what I fpake, I fpake it to my face.
Pa. Thy face is mine, and thou hafl: flaundred it.
lu. It may be fo, for it is not mine owne.
Are you at leifure, holy father now.
Or (hall I come to 5'ou at euening maffe ?
Fri. My leifure ferues me penfiue daughter now.
My lord we mufl intreat the -time alone.
Pa. Godfhield, I fliould diflnrbc deuotion,
lulist,
OF Romeo and Iuliet.
luiiet, on Thurfday early will I rowfe yee.
Till then adue, and keepe this holy kifle.
III. O fliut the doore, and when thou hall done fo,
Come weepe with me, part hope, paft care, pad: helpe.
Fri. O lulietf I already know thy griefe,
It firaines me pad: the compade of my wits,
I heare thou mud:, and nothing may prorogue it,
On Thurfday next be married to this countie.
lu. Tell me not frier that thou beared: of this,
Vnlede thou tell me how I may preuent it :
If in thy wifedome thou canfl giue no helpe.
Do thou but call my refolution wife.
And with this knife, He helps it prefently,
God ioynd my heart, and Romeos, thou our hands
And ere this hand by thee to Romeos feald :
Shall be the labell to another deede.
Or my true heart with trecherous reuolt,
Turne to another, this diall day them both :
Therefore out of thy long experiend: time,
Giue me fome prefent counfell, or behold
Twixt my extreames and me, this bloudy knife
Shall play the vmpeere, arbitrating that.
Which the commidion of thy yeares and art.
Could to no idiie of true honour bring :
Be not fo long to fpeake, I long to die,
If what thou fpeakfl, fpeake not of remedy.
Fri. Hold daughter, I doe fpie a kind of hope,
Which cranes as defperat an execution.
As that is defperate which we would preuent.
If rather then to marrie countie Paris
Thou had the drength of will to day thy felfe,
Then is it likely thou wilt vndertake
A thing like death to chide away this diame,
Exit»
That
The most lamentable Tragedie
That coapfl: with death himfelfe, to fcape from it.
And if thou darefl-, He giue thee remedie.
In. Oh bid me leape, rather then marry Paris,
From of the battlements of any tower,
Or walke in theenifli waies, or bid me lurke
Where ferpets are : chaineme with roaring beares
Or hide me nightly in a charnell houfe,
Orecouered quite with dead mens ratling bones, •
With reekie Ihankes and yealow chappels * fculls :
Or bid me go into a new made graue.
And hide me with a dead man in his f
Things that to heare them told, haue made me tremble.
And I will doe it without feare or doubt,
To liue an vnflaind wife to my fweet loue.
Fri. Hold then, goe home, be merrie, giue confent.
To marrie Paris : Wenfday is to morrow.
To morrow night looke that thou lie alone.
Let not thy nurfe lie with thee in thy chamber :
Take thou this violl being then in bed.
And this dillilling liquor drinke thou off.
When prefently through all thy veines (hall run,
A cold and drowfie humour : for no pulfe
Shall keepe his natiue progrefTe but furceafe
No warmth, no breath Ihall teftifie thou liueft,
The rofes in thy lips and cheekes lhall fade
Too many J afhes, the § eyes windowes fall ;
Like death when he fhuts vp the day of life
Each part depriu’d of fupple goucrnment.
Shall ftifFe and ftarke, and cold appeare like death ;
And in this borrowed likenede of Ihrunke death
Thou lhalt continue two and forty houres,
And then awake as from a pleafant fleepe.
* ebaplejfe. "I- k'ls Jljroud, J to paly. § tly.
OF Romeo and Iuliet,
Now when the bridegroome in the morning comes,
To rowfe thee from thy bed, there art thou dead:
Then as the manner of our country is,
In thy beft robes vncouered on the beere.
Be borne to buriali in thy kindreds graue :
Thou (halt be borne to that fame ancient vault,
Where all the kindred of the Capidets lie,
In the meane time againft thou lhalt awake.
Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift.
And hither (hall he come, and he and I
Will watch thy waking, and that very night
Shall Romeo beare thee hence to Mantua.
And this lhall free thee from this prefent lhame.
If no inconftant toy * nor womanilh feare.
Abate thy valour in the adting it.
III. Giue me, giue me, O tell not me of feare.
Fri. Hold get yon gone, be ftrong and profpercuis
In this refolue. He fend a frier with fpeed
To Mantua with my letters to thy lord.
lu. Loue giue me flrength, and Ilrength fhall helpe afford :
Farewell deare father. Exit,
Enter father Capulet, mother , Nurfe, and feruingmen, two or
three.
Ca. So many guefts inuite as here are writ.
Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cookes,
Ser. You fhall haue none ill fir, for He trie if they can lickc
their fingers.
Ca. How canfl thou trie them fo ?
Ser. Marrie fir, tis an ill cooke that canot lick his own
fingers; therefore he that cannot licke his fingers goes not
with me.
The most lamentable Tragedie
Ca. Go begone, we rtiall be much vnfurninit for this time :
What is my daughter gone to frier Lawrence ?
Nur. I forfooth.
Ca. Well he may chance to do fome good on her,
A peeuifli felfe willde harlotry it is.
Enter luliet.
Nur. See where fhe comes from fhrift with merrie looke.
Ca. How now my headflrong, where haue you bin gadding ?
lu. Where I haue learnt me to repent the fin
Of difobedient oppofition,
To you and your behefts, and am enioynd
By holy Lawrcfice, to fall proftrate here.
To beg your pardon, pardon I befeech you, *
Henceforward I ameuer ruld by you.
Ca. Send for the countie, goe tell him of this,
He haue this knot knit vp to morrow morning.
luli. I met the youthfull lord at Lawrence cell,
And gaue him what becomd* loue I might,
Not flepping ore the bounds of modeftie.
Ca. Why I am glad ont, this is well, Hand vp,
This is all fliould be, let me fee the county ;
I marrie go I fay and fetch him hether.
Now afore God, this reuerend holy frier,
All our whole citie is much bound to him.
lu. Nuife, will you goe with me into my clofet.
To helpe me fort fuch needful ornaments,
As you thinke fit to furnifii me to morrow^ ?
Mo. No not till Thurfday, there is time inough.
Fa. Go nurfe, go with her, weele to church to morrow.
Exeunt*
Mo. We lhall be fhort in our prouifion,
Tis now neare night.
* becommsd*
Fa.
OF Romeo and Iuliet;
Fa, Tufh, I will flirre about,
And all things lliall be well, I warrant thee wife :
Go thou to luUet, helpe to decke vp her,
He not to bed to night, let me alone :
He play the hufwife for this once, what ho ?
They are all forth, well I will walke my felfe
To countie Paris, to prepare vp him
Againfl tomorrow, my heart is wondrous light,
Since this fame wayward gyrle is fo reclaimed. Exit,
Enter luliet and Nurfe.
lu. I thofe attires are bed:, but gentle nurfe
I pray thee leaue me to my felfe to night:
For I haue need of many oryfons.
To moue the heauens to fmile vpon my Hate,
Which wel thou knowefl, is crofTe andful of iln.
Enter mother.
Mo. What are you bufie ho ? need you my help i
III. No madam, we haue culd fuch neceflaries'
As are behoofefull for our Hate to morrow :
So pleafe you, let me now be left alone.
And let the nurfe this night fit vp with you.
For I am fure, you haue your hands full all.
In this fo fudden bufineffe.
Mo. Good night.
Get thee to bed and refl, for thou hafl need.
Exeunt,
lu. Farewell, God knowes when we fhall meete againe.
I haue a faint cold feare thrills through my veines.
That almofl: freezes vp the heate of life :
He call them backe againe to comfort me.
Nurfe, what fhould fhe do here ?
My difmall fceane I needs muff afl alone.
Come
The most lamentable Tragedie
Come viall, what if this mixture do not workc at all ?
Shall I be married then to morrow morning ?
No, no, this fhall forbid it, lie thou there,
What if it be a poyfon which the frier
Subtilly hath minilfred, to haue me dead,
Leah in this marriage he (hould be dilhonourd,
Becaufe he married me before to Romeo ?
I feare it is, and yet me thinks it Ihould not.
For he hath hill beene tried a holy man.
How if when I am laid into the tombe,
I wake before the time that Romeo
Come to redeeme me, theres afearefull point :
Shall I not then be hiffled in the vault ?
To whofe foule mouth no healthfome ayre breaths in.
And there die hrangled ere my Romeo comes.
Or if I liue, is it not«very like,
' The horrible conceit of death and night.
Together with the terror of the place.
As in a vaulte, an ancient receptacle.
Where for thefe many hundred yeeres the bones
Of all my buried auncehors are packt.
Where bloody Tybalt yet but greene in earth.
Lies fehring in his Ihrowd, where as they fay.
At fome houres in the night, fpliits refort :
Alacke, alacke, is it not like that I
So early waking, what with loathfome fmels.
And fhrikes like mandrakes tome out of the earth.
That liuing mortalls hearing them run mad.
Or if I walke, Ihall I not be diftraught,
Inuironed with all thefe hidious feares.
And madly play with my forefathers ioynts ?
And plucke the mangled Tybalt from his fhrowde.
And in this rage, with fome great kinfmans bone.
As with a club daHi out my defperate braines.
O looke.
.1
OF Romeo and Iuliet.'
O looke, me thinks I fee my cozins ghoft.
Seeking out Romeo that did fpit his body
Vpon a rapiers point : ftay Tybalt, flay ; •
Romeo, Romeo, Romeo, heres drinke, I drinke to thee.
Enter lady of the hoiife and Nurfe.
La. Hold, take thefe keies, and fetch more fpices nurfe,
Nur, They call for dates and quinces in the pafirie.
Enter old Capulet.
Ca. Come flir, flir, flir, the fecond cocke hath crowed.
The curphew bell hath roung, tis three a clocke :
Looke to the bakte meates, good Angelica,
Spare not for cofl.
Niir. Go you cot-queane, go,
Get you to bed, faith youle be ficke to morrow
For this nights watching.
Ca. No not a whit, what ? I haue watcht ere now
All night for lefTe caufe, and nere beene ficke.
La. I you haue bin a moufe-hunt in your time,
But I will watch you from fuch watching now.
Exit lady and Nurfe,
Ca. A iealous hood, a iealous hood, now felIou% what is
there ?
Enter three or four e 'with fpits and logs and baskets.
Eel. Things for the cooke fir, but I know not what.
Ca. Make hafle, make hafle firra, fetch drier logs.
Cali Peter, he will fliew thee where they are.
Eel. I haue a head fir, that will find out logs.
And neuer trouble Peter for the matter.
Ca, Made and well faid, a merrie horfon, ha.
Thou (halt be loggerhead ; good father tis day.
VoL. IV. L
Play
The most lamentable Tragedie ^
Play muficke.
The countie will be here with muficke flraight.
For fo he fiiid he would, I heare him neere.
Nurfe, wife, what ho, what nurfe I fay ?
Enter Nurfe.
Go waken luliet, go and trim her vp,
He go and chat with Paris, hie, make hafle.
Make hafte, the bridegroome, he is come already, make haflc
I fay.
Nur. Midris, what midris, luliet, faft I warrant her fhe.
Why lambe, 'why lady, fie you fluggabed.
Why loue I fay, madam, fweet heart, why bride :
What not a word, you take your peniworths * now,
Sleepe for a weeke, for the next night I warrant
The countie Paris hath fet vp his refi.
That you lhall reft but little, God forgiue me.
Marrie and amen : how found is Ihe a fleepe :
I muft needs wake her : madam, madam, madam,
I, let the countie take you in your bed,
Heele fright you vp yfaith, will it not be ?
What dreft, and in your clothes, and downe agalue ?
I muft needs wake you, lady, lady, lady.
Alas, alas, helpe, helpe, my ladyes dead.
Oh weleaday, that euer I was borne.
Some aqua-vitae ho, my lord, my lady.
Mo. What noife is heere ?
Nur. O lamentable day.
Mo. What is the matter ?
Aur. Looke, iooke,.oh heauie da}^
Mo, O me, O me, my child, my onely life :
* ftnnlwtnb.
Reuiuc,
OF Romeo and Iuliet.’
Reulue, looke vp, or I will die with thee :
Helpe, helpe, call heipe.
Enter Father,
Fa, For lhame bring Iiiliet forth, her lord is come :
Niir. Shees dead : deceaft, fhees dead, alacke the day.
M, Alack the day, fhees dead, fhees dead, fhees dead.
Fa, Hah let me fee her, out alas fhees cold.
Her blood is fetled and her ioynts are fliffe :
Life and thefe lips hane long bene feperated.
Death lies on her like an vntimely froft
Vpon the fweetefl: flower of ail the field.
Nur. O lamentable day.
Mo, O wofull time.
Fa, Death that hath tane her hence to make me walle,'
Ties vp my tongue and will not let me fpeake.
Enter Frier and the Countie *
Fri, Come, is the bride ready to go to church ?
Fa. Ready to go, but neuer to returne.
O fonne, the night before thy wedding day.
Hath death laine with thy wife, there fhe lies
Flower as ihe was, deflowred by him.
Death is my fonne in law, death is my heire,
My daughter he hath wedded. I will die,
And leaue him all life lining, all is deaths.
Paris. Haue I thought long to fee this mornings face.
And doth it glue me fuch a fight as this ?
Mo. Accurfl, vnhappie, wretched hatefull day,
Mofl: miferable houre that ere time faw
In lafling labour of his pilgrimage.
But one poore one, one poore and louing child.
* CoufJtie ’ivith mujicians.
The most lamentable Tragedie
But one thing to reioyce anJ folace in,
And cruell death hath catcht it from my fight.
Nur. O wo, O wofull, wofiill, wofull day,
Mofi: lamentable day, molt wofull day.
That euer, cuer, I did yet behold,
O day, O day, O day, O hatefuil day,
Neuer was fcene fo blacke a day as this,
O wofull day, O wofull day.
Par. Beguiid,‘diuorced, wTonged, fplghted, flalne,
MoA deteftable death, by thee beguild.
By cruell, cruell thee, quite ouerthrowne,
O loue, O life, not life, but loue in death.
Fat. Defpifde, diftrelTed, hated, martird, kild,
Vncomfortable time, why cam A thou now.
To murther, murther our folemnitie ?
O child, O child, my foiile and not my child,
Dead art thou, alacke my child is dead.
And with my child my ioyes are buried.
Fri. Peace ho for lhame, confufions, care lines not
In thefe confufions, heaiien and 5’our felfe
Had part in this faire maid, now heauen hath all.
And all the better is it for the maid :
Your part in her, you could not keepe from death,
But heauen keepes his part in eternall life :
The moA you fought was her promotion.
For twMs your heauen Aie fliould be aduauA,
And weepe ye now, feeing flie is aduanA
Aboue the cloudes, as high as heauen it felfe.
O in this loue, you loue your child fo ill.
That you run mad, feeing that fheis w'cll :
Shees nor well married, that Hues married long,
But fliees beA married, that dies married yong.
Drie vp your teares, and Aicke your rofemarie
On this faire coarfe, and as the cuAome is.
OF Romeo and Iuliet.
And in her befl array beare her to church : ’
For though fome nature bids vs all lament.
Yet natures teares are reafons merriment. ‘
Fa, All things that we ordained f’efliuall,
Tuine from their office to blacke funerall :
Our inffruments to melancholy bells,
Our wedding cheare to a fad buriall * feaft :
Our folemne hymnes to fullen dyrges change ;
Our bridall flowers feme for a buried coarfe :
And all things change them to the contrarie.
Fri. Sir go you in ; and madam, go with him.
And go fir Paris, euery one prepare
To follow this faire coarfe vnto her graue :
The heauens do lowre vpon you for fome ill :
Moue them no more, by croffing their high will.
Exeunt manet f .
Mufi. Faith we may put vp our pipes and be gone.
ISlur. Honefl: goodfellowes, ah put vp, put vp,
For well you know, this is a pitifull cafe.
Fid. I by my troath, the cafe may be amended.
Exeunt omnes.,
Enter Will Kempe :f .
Peter. Mufitions, oh mufitions, harts cafe, harts eafe,
O, and you will haue me liue, play hearts eafe,
Fidler. Why harts eafe ?
Peter. O mufitions, becaufe my hart it felfe plaies, my hart
is full^.
O play me fome merrie dumpe to comfort me.
Minjlrels. Not a dump we, tis no time to play now.
Pet. You will not then ?
Min. No.
Pet. I will then giue it you foundly.
* funeral. •\ manent mufici, Peter. ^fuUofivoe,
L 3
Min.
The most lamentable Tragedie
Min. What will you glue vs?
Pet. No money on my faith, but the gleeke.
I wlllgiue you the minftrell.
Min. Then will I giue you the feruing creature.
Pet. Then will I lay the feruing creatures dagger on your
pate. I will carie no crochets, He re you. He fa
you, do you note me ?
Min. And you re vs, and fa vs, you note vs.
2 M. Pray you put vp your dagger, and put out your wit.
Then haue at you with my wit.
Peter. I will drie-beate you with an yron wit, and put vp
my yron dagger.
Anfwere me like men.
When griping griefes the hart doth wound, then mufique with
her filuer found.
Why filuer found, why muficke with her filuer found, v.'hat
fay you Simon Catling.
Min. Mary fir, bccaufe filuer hath a fweet found.
Pet. Pratejl *, what fay you Hugh Rebick F
2 M. I fay filuer found, becaufe mufitions found for filuer.
. Pet. Pratejl * to, what fay you lames Sound poji F
3 M. Faith I know not what to fay.
Pet. O I cry you mercy, you are the finger.
1 will fay for you ; it is muficke with her filuer found,
Bccaufe mufitions haue no gold for founding :
Then muficke with her filuer found with fpeedy helpe doth
lend redreffe. Exit.
Min. What a peflilent knaue is this fame ?
M. 2. Hang him iacke, come weele in here, tatrie for the
mourners, and fhy dinner. Exit f*
Enter Romeo.
Ro. If I may truH the flattering truth of fleepe,
* Pratee. Exeunt.
OF Romeo and Iuliet.
My dreames prefage fome ioyfull newes at hand.
My bofomes L*. fits lightly in f in his throne :
And all this day an vnaccuflomd fpirit.
Lifts me aboue the ground with cheerefiill thoughts,
I dreamt my lady came and found me dead,
dreame J that^zW § a dead man leaue tothinkc,
And breathd fuch life with kifies in my lips,
That I reuiude and was an emperor.
Ah me, how fweet is loue it felfe pofiefi.
When but loues fhadowes are fo rich in ioy.
Enter Romeos 7nan ||.
Newes from Verona^ how now Balthazer ?
Dofi: thou not bring me letters from the frier ?
How doth my lady, is my father well ?
How doth my lady Iuliet ? that I afice againe.
For nothing can be ill, if Ihe be well.
Man. Then (he is well, and nothing can be ill.
Her body fleepes in Capeh monument.
And her immortall part with angells hues,
I faw her laid low in her kindreds vault.
And prefently tooke pofie to tell it you :
O pardon me for bringing thefe ill newes.
Since you did leaue it for my office fir.
Ro. Is it euen fo ? then I denie you flarres.
Thou knowefl my lodging, get me inke and paper,
And hire pofl horfes, I will hence to night.
Man. I do befeech you fir, haue patience :
Your lookes are pale and wild, and do import
Some mifaduenture.
Ro. Tufh thou art deceiu’d,
Leaue me, and do the thing I bid thee do.
Haft thou no letters to me from the frier ?
* lord. fen, X dreams. ^ jj Balthazar,
L4
Maru
The most lamentable Tracedie
Tnan. No my good lordv
Ro. No matter, get thcc gone,
And hyre thofe horfcs, lie be with thee firalght.
Well lulictj I will lie with thee to night :
Lets fee for meanes, O mifehiefe thou art fwift
To enter in the thoughts of defperate men :
I do remember an appothecarie,
And here abouts a * dwels, which late I noted
In tattred weeds, with oucrwhclming browes,
Culling of limples, meager were his lookes,
Sharpe miferie had worne him to the bones :
And in his needie fliop a tortoys hung.
An allegater Auft, and other fkins
Of ill Ihapte fiflies, and about his flielues,
A beggerly account of emptie boxes,
Greene earthen pots, bladders and muftie feedes,
Remnants of packthred, and old cakes of rofes
Were thinly flattered, to make vp a fhew.
Noting this penury, to myfelfe I faid,
J)i f ' if a man did need a poyfon now,
Whofe fale is prefent death in Mantua,
Here lines a caitifFe wretch would fell it him.
O this fame thought did but forerun my need.
And this fame needie man mud: fell it me.
As I remember, this Ihould be the houfe.
Being holy day the beggers fliop is fliut.
What ho appothecarie :
Jppo, Who calls fo lowd ?
Rom. Come hither man, I fee that thou art poore.
Hold, there is foriie duckets, let me haue
A dram of poyfon, fuch foone fpeeding gcare.
As will difperfe it felfe through all the veines,
* ke. d And,
♦
I
Exit,
i~
That
OF Romeo and IulietJ
That the life-wearie taker may fall dead.
And that the trunke may be difchargd of breath.
As violently, as haftie powder herd
Doth hurry from the fatall canons wombe,
Poti. Such mortail drugs I haue, but Mantuas law
Is death to any he that vtters them.
Ro> Art thou fo bare and full of wretchednelTe,
And fearch to die, famine is in thy cheekes,
Need and opprelTion harueth in thy * eyes.
Contempt and beggery hangs f vpon thy backe :
The world is not thy friend, nor the worlds law,
The world affoords no law to make thee rich :
Then be not poore, but breake it and take this.
Po. My pouerty, but not ray will con Tents.
Ro I pray thy pouerty and not thy will.
Po. Put this in any liquid thing yon will
And drinke it off, and if you had the ftrength
Of twenty men, it would difpatch you ifraight.
Ro, There is thy gold, worfe poyfon to mensfoules.
Doing rhore murther X in this loathfome world.
Then thefe poore compounds that thou maieft not fell,
I fell thee poyfon, thou haft fold me none.
Farewell, buy foode, and get thy felfe in flefli.
Come cordiall and not poyfon, go with me
To Juliets graue, for there muft I vfe thee. Exeunt*
Enter frier lohn to frier Lawrence.
Ich, Holy Francifcan frier, brother, ho.
• Enter Lawrence.
Law. This fame fhould be the voice of frier John,
Welcome from Mantua^ what fayes Romeo?
Or if his mind be writ, giue me his letter.
* thine, -j- hang. J murden.
The most lamentable Tragedie
loh. Going to find a barefoote brother out,
One of our order to afibciate me.
Here in this citie vifiting the ficke.
And finding him, the fearchers of the townc
Sufpefling.that we both were in a houfe.
Where the infectious pefiilence did raigne,
Seald vp the doores, and would not let vs forth.
So that my fpeed to Mantua there was fiaid.
Law, Who bare my letter then to Romeo?
lohn, I could not fend it, here it is againc.
Nor get a meffenger to bring it thee.
So fearefull were they of infeClion.
Law, Vnhappie fortune, by my brotherhood.
The letter was not nice, but full of charge.
Of deare import, and the negleCting it.
May do much danger : frier lohn go hence,
Get me an iron crow and bring it firaight
Vnto my cell.
lohn. Brother He go and bring it thee. (Exit,
Law. Now mufl I to the monument alone.
Within this three houres will faire Iidiet wake,
Shee will belhrew me much that Romeo
Hath had no notice of thefe accidents :
But I will write againe to Mantua^
And keepe her at my cell till Romeo come,
Poore lining coarfc, clofde in a dead mans tombe. ( Exit,
Enter Paris and his page.
Par, Giue me thy torch boy, hence and fiand aloofe.
Yet put it out, for 1 would not be feene :
Vnder yond young trees lay thee all along,
Holding thy eare clofe to the hollow ground,
So {hall no foot vpon the churchyard tread,
Being loofe, vnfirme with digging vp of graues.
But *
OF Romeo and Iuliet.'
But thou (halt heare it, whiftle then to me, ♦
As fignall that thou hearefl fome thing approach,
Giue me thofe flowers, do as I bid thee, go.
Pag. I am almofl: afraid to fland alone
Here in the church-yard, yet I will aduentnre.
Par. Sweet flower with flowers thy bridal! bed I flrew,
O woe, thy canapie is dull: and flones,
Which wi’h fweet water nightly I will dewe
Or wanting that, with teares diilild by mones ;
The obfequies that I for thee will keepe,
Nightly fnall be, to flrew thy graue and weepe.
V/hiJile hoy.
The boy giues warning, fomething doth approach,
\Vhat curfed foot wanders this way to night.
To crofle my obfequies and true loues right ?
W hat with a torch ? muffle me night a while.
Enicr Romeo and Peter.
Rq. Giue me the mattocke and the wrenching iron.
Hold take this letter, early in the morning
See thou deliuer it to my lord and father,
Giue me the light ; vpon thy life I charge thee.
What ere thou hearefl or feefl, fland all aloofe.
And do not interrupt me in my courfe.
Why I defcend into this bed of death.
Is partly to behold my ladies face :
But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger,
A precious ring : a ring that I mufl vfe.
In deare employment, therefore hence be gone :
But if thou iealous dofl returne to prie
In what I farther /hall intend to do.
/
The most lamentable Tracedie*
By henuen I will teare thee ioynt by loynt,
And ftrcw this hungry church-yard with thy liins :
The time and my intents are fauagc wilde,
More fierce and more inexorable farre,
Then emptie tygers, or the roaring fea.
Pet. I will be gone fir, and not trouble you.
Ro. So (halt thou fhew me friendfliip, take thou that,
Liue and be profperous, and farewell good fellow.
Pet. For all this fame, Jle hide me here about.
His lookes I feare, and his intents I doubt,
Ro. Thou deteftable mawe, thou wombe of death.
Gorg’d with the deareft morfell of the earth :
Thus I enforce thy rotten iawes to open.
And in defpight He cram thee with more food.
Pa. This is that banilht haughtie Mount ague ^
That murdred my loues couzin ; with which griefe.
It is fuppofed the faire creature died.
And here is come to do fome villanous fliame
To the dead bodies : I will apprehend him,
Stop thy vnhallowed toyle, vile Mountague :
Can vengeance be purfued further then death i
Condemned villaine, I do apprehend thee.
Obey and go with me, for thou muft die.
Rom. I.muft indeed, and therefore came I hither,
Good gentle youth, tempt not a defperate man,
Flie hence and leaue me, thinke vpon thefe gone,
Let them affright thee. I befeech thee youth.
Put not an other fin vpon my head.
By vrging me to furie, O be gone,
By heauen I loue thee better then my felfe.
For I come hither armde againff my felfe :
Stay not, be gone, liue, and hereafter fa}^
A mad mans mercy hid^ thee run away.
Par»
« hade
OF Romeo and Iuliet.
Par^ I do defie thy commifleration,
.^nd apprehend thee fora fellon here.
Ro. Wilt thou prouoke me ? then haue at thee boy.
0 lord * they fights / will go call the watch.
Par. O I am flaine, if thou be mercifull.
Open the tombe, lay me with Iuliet.
Rom. In faith I will, let me perufe'this face,
Mercutiiis kinfman, noble countie Paris,
What faid my man, when my betofTed foule
Did not attend him as we rode ? I thinke
He told me Paris Ihould haue married Iuliet.
Said he not fo ? or did I dreame it fo ?
Or am I mad, hearing him talke of Iuliet,
To thinke it was fo ? O giue me thy hand.
One, writ with me in fowre misfortunes booke.
He burie thee in a triumphant graue. ' ■
A graue ; O no, a lanthorne ; fiaughtred youth :
For here lies Iuliet, and her beautie makes
This vault a feafting prefence full of light.
Death lie thou there by a dead man interd.
How oft when men are at the point of death,
Haue they beene merrie I which their keepers call
A lightning before death ? Oh how may I
Call this a lightning ? O my loue, my wife.
Death that hath fuckt the honey of thy breath.
Hath had no power yet vpon thy beautie:
Thou art not conquerd, beauties enfigne yet
Is crymfon in thy lips, and in thy cheeks.
And deaths pale flag is not aduanced there.
Tybalt lyefl: thou there in thy bloudy flieet ?
O what more fauour can I do to thee.
Then with that hand that cut thy youth in twaine.
To funder his that was thine enemie ?
♦ Tagt, O Lord,
Forgluc
The most lamentable Tragedi.e
Forgiue me couzen. Ah deare IiiUef^
Why art thou yet fo faire ? I will beleeue,
Shall I belieuc, that vnfubftaatiall death is amorous
And that the leane abhorred monfter keepes
Thee here in darke to be his paramour ?
For feare of that, I flill will ftay with thee,
And neuer from this pallace of dym night
^ Depart againe, come lie thou in my arme,
Heer's to thy healthy where ere thou tumhlejl in
O true appothecarie !
Thy drugs are quicke. Thus with a kilTe I die.
Depart againe ; here, here will I remaine.
With wormes that are thy chambermaides : O here
Will I fet vp my euerlafling reft :
And (hake the yoke of inaufpicious ftarres
From this world-wearied flefti, eyes looke your laft :
Armes take your laft embrace : and lips, O you
The doores of breath, feale with a righteous kifte
A datelefle bargaine to ingrofting death :
Come bitter conduff, come vnfauory guide.
Thou defperate pilot, now at once run on
'The daftiing rocks, thy fea-ficke weary barke :
Heer’s to my loue. O true appothecary ;
Thy drugs are quicke. Thus with a kilTe I die.
Enter Frier with lanthorney crow and fpade,
Fri. St. Francis be my fpeed, how oft to night
Haue my old feet ftumbled at graucs ? Whoes there ?
Man. Heres one, a friend, and one that knowes you well.
Fri, Blifte be vpon you. Tell me good my friend
What torch is yond that vainely lends his light.
* This line and a half is wanting in the edition of 1637, and feveral of thofc
that follow are tranfpofed.
To
OF Romeo and luLiETi
To grubs and eyelcffe fculles as I difcerne,
It burneth in the Capels monument.
Man. It doth fo holy hr, and theres my mailer, one that
you loue.
Fri. Who is it ?
Man. Romeo.
Fri. How long hath he bin there f*
Man. Full halfe an houre.
Fri. Go with me to the vault.
Man. I dare not fir,
My mailer knowes not but I am gone hence.
And fearefully did menace me with death.
If I did flay to looke on his entents.
Fri. Stay, then He go alone, feare comes vpon me.
0 much I feare fome ill vnluckie thing.
Malt. As I did Ileepe under this young tree here,
1 dreamt my mailer and another fought.
And that my mailer flev/ him.
Fri. Romeo.
Alacke alacke, what bloud is this which Haines
The Ilony entrance of this fepulchre ?
What meane thefe maHerlelTe and goarie fwords
To lie difcolour’d by this place of peace ?
Romeoj oh pale : who elfe, what Paris too ?
And Heept in blood ? ah what an vnkind houre
Is guiltie of this lam^table chance ?
The lady Hirs.
luli. O comfortable frier, where is my lord ?
I do remember well where I Ihould be :
And there I am, where is my Romeo?
Fri. I heare fome noyfe lady, come from that nell
Of death, contagion, and vnnaturall fleepe ;
A greater power then we can contradifl
Hath thwarted our entents, come, come away,
Thy
i ■
1
The most lamentable Tragedie
Thy hufband in thy bofome there lies dead :
And Paris too, come He difpofe of thee,
Among a fiderhood of holy nunnes :
Stay not to queftion, for the watch is comming,
Come, go good Iidietf 1 dare no longer Hay. Exit,
luli. Go get thee hence, for I will not away,
Whats here ? a cup clofdin my true loues hand ?
Poyfon I fee hath bin his timelefle end :
O churle, drinke all, left * no friendly drop
To helpe me after, I will kille thy lips,
Happlie fome poyfon yet doth hang on them.
To make me die with a refloratiue.
Thy lips are warme.
Enter Boy and Watch.
Watch. Leade boy, which way ?
luli. Yea noife ? then He bebriefe. O happie dagger.
Tis is thy fheath, there ruH and let me die.
Watch boy. This is the place, there where the, torch doth
burne.
Watch. The ground is bloody, fearch about the church-
yard.
Go fome of you, who ere you find attach.
Pittifull fight, here lies the countie flaine.
And Juliet bleeding, warme, and newly dead :
Who here hath laine thefe two dayes buried.
Go tell the prince, runne to the Capulets.
Raife vp the IMoiintagues, fome others fearch.
We fee the ground whereon thefe woes do lye.
But the true ground of all thefe piteous woes.
We cannot without circumftance defery.
* haue.
Enter
OF Romeo and Iuliet,
Enter Romeos man.
.tVatch, Heres Romeos man, we found him in the church-
yard.
Chief e Watch. Hold him in fafetie, till the prince come hither.
I
Enter Frier, and another Watchman,
3 Watch. Here is a frier that trembles, fighes, and weepes.
We tooke this mattocke and this fpade from him.
As he was comming from this church-yard fide.
Chief. Watch. A great fufpition, Ray the frier too, too.
, Enter the Prince.
Prin. What mifaduenture is fo early vp,
That calls our perfon from our morning refl ?
Enter Camels *.
Ca. What (hould it be that they fo Ihrike abroad ?
Wife. O the people in the Rreete crie Romeo ^
Some luliet, and fome Paris, and all runne
With open outcry toward our monument.
Pr. What feare is this which Rartles in your eares ? . ..
Watch. Soueraigne, here lies the countie Paris flaine.
And dead, and Juliet dead before,
Warm and new kild.
Prin. Search, feeke and know how this foule murder comes,
Wat. Here is a frier, and flaughterd Romeos man.
With inftruments vpon them fit to open
Thefe dead mens tombes.
Enter Capulet and his vjlfe f .
Ca. O heauen ! O wife looke how our daughter bleedes I
This dagger hath mifiane, for loe his houfe
* Qr^ule: ar.d In %v’fe. t Er.tir omitted,
VoL. IV. M
Is
The most lamentable Tracedie
Is empty on the backe of Mount ague ^
And is miflieath’d in my daughters bofome.
IVi. O me, this fight of death, is as a bell'
That warnes my old age to a fepulcher.
Enter Mountague.
Pri, Come Mountague ^ for thou art early vp
To fee thy fonne and heirc, now early downe.
Moun. Alas my liege, my wife is dead to night,
Giiefe of my Tonnes exile hath flopt her breath.
What further woe confpires againfi: my age ?
Prin. Looke and thou (halt fee.
Moun. O thou vntaught, what manners is in this.
To prefTe before thy father to a graue ?
Pri. Seale vp the mouth of outrage for a while.
Till we can cleare thefe ambiguities.
And know their fpring, their head their true defcent.
And then will I be generall of your woes.
And lead you euen to death, meane time forbearc.
And let mifchance be flaue to patience.
Bring forth the parties of fufpition.
• Fri. I am the greateff'able to doe leaff.
Yet mofl: fufpe^led as the time and place
Doth make againfi: me of this direfull murther :
And heare I Hand both to impeach and purge
My felfe condemned, and my felfe excufde.
Prin. Then fay at once what thou dofi know In this ?
Frier. I will bee briefe for my fliort date of breath
Is not fo long as is a tedious tale.
Romeo there dead, was hufband to that luliet.
And file there dead, thats * Romeos faithfull wife :
I married them, . and their fiolne marriage day
Was Tib alts doomefday, whofe vntimely death
* that
Banifijt
OF Romeo and Juliet.
Banlfht the new-made bridegroome from this citie^ •
For whom, and not for Tibalt, luliet pin’d.
You, to remoue that fiege of griefe from her
Betroth’d and would haue married her perforce
To county Paris. Then comes Ihe to me,
And with wild lookes bid me deuife fome meanes
To rid her from this fecond marriage ;
Or in my cell there would fhe kill her felfe.
Then gaue I her (fo tuterd by my art)
A fleeping potion, which fo tooke effedl
As I intended, for it wrought on her
The forme of death, meane time I writ to Romei
That he fhould hither come as this dire night
To help to take her from her borrowed graue.
Being the time the potions force fliould ceafe.
But he which bore my letter, frier lohn.
Was flayed by accident, and yeflernight
Returned my letter back, then all alone
At the prefixed hower of her waking.
Came I to take her from her kindreds vault.
Meaning to keepe her clofely at my cell.
Till I conueniently could fend to Romeo.
But when I came fome minute ere the time
Of her awaking, here vntimely lay.
The noble Parisy and true Romeo dead.
She wakes, and 1 entreated her come forth
And beare this worke of heauen with patience ;
But then a noife did fcare me from the tombe.
And fhe too defperate would not goe with me :
But as it feemes, did violence on her felfe.
All this I know, and to the marriage her nurfe is priuie :
And if ought in this mlfcaried by my fault.
Let my old life be facrific’d fome houre before the time,
-Vnto the rigour of feuercfl law.
M2
Prin,
The most lamentable Tracedie
Prin, We ftill haue knowne thee for a holy man,
Whers Romeos man ? what can he fay to this ?
Balth. I brought my mafier newes of luliets death.
And then in poll he came from Mantua^
To this fame place. To this fame monument
This letter he early bid me giue his father,
And threatned me with death, going into the vault.
If I departed not, and leaft him there.
Prill. Giue me the letter I will looke on it.
Where is the counties page thatraifd the watch ?
Sirrah what made your mafterin this place ?
Boy. He came with flowers to flrew his ladies grauc.
And bid me fland aloofe, and fo I did.
Anon comes one with light to ope the tombe
And by and by my maifter drew on him.
And then I ran away to call the watch.
Prin. This letter doth make good the friers words.
Their courfe of loue the tidings of her death.
And here he writes that he did buy a poyfon
Of a poore pothecarie, and there withall.
Came to this vault, to die and lye with luUet.
Where be thefe enemies ? Capuletj Mount ague ?
See what a fcourge is laide vpon your hate ?
That heauen finds means to kil your ioyes with loue.
And I for winking at your difcords too,
Haue loft a brafe of kinfmen, all are puniflit.
Cap. O brother Mountague^ giue me thy hand.
This is my daughters ioynture, for no more
Can I demaund.
Moun. But I can glue thee more.
For I will raie * her flatue in pure gold,
That whiles Verona by that name is kiiowne.
OF Romeo and Iuliet*
There (hall no figure at that rate be fet,
As that of true and faithfull luliet.
Cap. As rich (hall Romeos by his ladies lie,
Poore facrifices of our enmitie.
Prin. A glooming peace this morning with it brings.
The fun for forrow will not Ihew his head :
Go hence to haue more talke of thefe fad things.
Some lhall be pardoned, and fome punilhed.
For neiier was a ftorie of more woe,
Then this of luliet and her Romeo^
This Play has been collated with another Copy printed'
in 1637; R. Toung, for lohn Smethwicke. '
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THE
TRAGICALL HISTORIE
O F
HAMLET
Prince of Denmarke.
BY
WILLIAM Shakespeare/
Newly imprinted, and enlarged to almofl as much againe as it
was, according to the true and perfefl coppie.
At
L O N D O
N :
Printed for John Smethwicke, and are fold at his flioppe
in Saint Dunjions Church yeard in FleetBreet, under the
Dial i6ii.
This Copy has been collated with the fol
lowing Editions, .
1605. 7. 7?. for N. L.
R-^oungj fov lohn Smethwicke,
No date, TT, S, for lohn SmetfmUie,
I
T HE
T R A G E D I E
O F
HAMLET
Prince of Denmarke.
Enter Bernardo, and Frandfco, t'wo centinels.
Bar,
WHOSE * there?
Fran, Nay anfwer me, Stand and vnfold you
felfe.
Bar. Long Hue the king, *
Fran. Barnardo,
Bar. Hee.
Fran. You come moft carefully vpon your houre.
Bar. Tis now ftrooke twelue, get thee to bed Francifco,
Fran. For this reliefe much thanks, tis bitter cold.
And I am Hck at heart.
Bar, Haue yon had quiet guard ?
Fraji. Not a moufe Hirring.
Bar. Well, good night :
If you doe meete Horatio and MarceUiis
The riuals of my watch, bid them make haft.
♦ WitoV
KnUr
The Tragedy of Hamlet
Enter Horiitio and Marcellus.
Fran. I thinke I heare them, ftand ho, who is there I
Hor. Friends to this ground.
Mar. And leegeraen to the Dane.
Fran. Giue you good night.
Mar. O, farewell honefl fouldiers, who hath relieu’d you ?
Fran. Bernardo hath my place ; giue you good night.
Exit Fraa.
Mar. Holla, Barnardb.
Bar. Say what is Horatio there ?
Hor a. A peece of him.
Bar. Welcome Horatio^ welcome good MarcelluSy
Hora What ha’s this thing appeard againe to night ?
Bar. I haue feene nothing.
Mar. Horatio fayes tis but a * fantafie',
' And will not let beleefe take hold of him.
Touching this dreaded fight twice feene of vs.
Therefore I haue intreated him along, .
With vs to watch the minuts of this night.
That if againe this apparition come,
Hee may approue our eyes and fpeake to it.
Hora, Tufh, tufh, twill not appeare.
Bar. Sit downe awhile.
And let vs once againe affaile your eares.
That are fo fortilied againfl our Aory,
What wee haue two nights feene.
Hor. Well fit wee downe.
And let vs heare Barnardo fpeake of this.
Bar. Laft night of all.
When yond fame ftarre thats weftward from the pole ;
Had made his courfe F illume f that part of heauen
Where now It burnes, Marcellus and my felfe
The bell then beating one.
* 9ur, d' t" illumine.
• - Elites^
Prince of Denmarke.
Enter Ghoft.
Mar. Peace, breake thee off looke where it comes agalnc,
Bar. In the fame figure like the king thats dead.
Mar. Thou art a fcholler fpeake to it Horatio.
Bora. Moft like, it horrowes me with feare and wonder.
Bar. It would be fpoke to.
Mar. Speake to it Horatio.
Hora. What art thou that, vfurpfl: this time of night.
Together with that faire and warlike forme,
In which the maiefly of buried Denmarke
Didfometimes march : by heauen I charge the fpeake.
Mar. It is offended.
Bar. See it ftaukes away. ' > ‘ ^
Hora. Stay, fpeake, fpeake I charge thee fpeake.
Exit Ghoft.
Ma. Tis gone and will not anfwere.
Bar. How now Horatio, you tremble and looke pale,
Is not this fomething more then phantafie ?
What thinke you of it * P
Hora. Before my God I might not this beleeue.
Without the fcncible and true auouch
Of mine owne eyes.
Mar. Is it not like the king ?
Hora. As thou art to thy felfe : ‘
Such was the very armor hee had on.
When hee the ambitious Norway combated.
So frownde hee once when in an angry parle
. Hee fmote the Headed pollax on the ice.
Tis ftrange.
Mar. Thus twice before and iump at this dead f hourc,
With martiall flauke hath,hee gone by our watch.
Hora. In what perticular thought, to worke I know not.
* «nt. -j- yarns ,
But
The Tragedy of Hamlet
But in the grofTc and fcope of mine opinion.
This boJes fome flrange eruption to our ffatc.
Mar, Good now fit downe, and tell me hee that knowes,
Why this fame ftri(fl: and moft obferuant watch
So nightly toyles the fubie(5f of the laud,
And with fuch dayly coff of brazen cannon
And forraine marte for implements of warre,
Why fuch impreffeof flilp-wrights, whofe fore tafke
Does not deuide the Sunday from the weeke,
What might bee toward, that this fweaty haft
Doth make the night ioynt labourer* with the day.
Who ift that can informe mee,^
Nora. That can I.
At leaft the whifper goes fo, our laft king,
Whofe image euen but now appea’d to vs.
Was as you know by Fortinbrajje of Nor'ivay,
Thereto prickt on by a moft emulate pride
Dar’d to the combate ; in which our valiant Hamlet ,
(For fo this fide of our knowne world efteemd him)
Did flay this Fortinbrajfe, who by a feald compact
Well ratified by law and heraldry
Did forfait (with his life) all thefe his lands
Which he flood feaz’d of, to the conquerour.
Againft the which amoity competent
Was gaged by our king, whi,ch had returne
To the inheritance of Foriinbrajfc,
Had hee becne vanqmjber f ; as by the fame comart.
And carriage of the articles defeigne, . ^
His fell to Hamlet ; now fir, young Fortlnhraffe
Of vnimprooued mettle, hot and full,
Hath in the fkirts of Norway heere and there
Sharkt vp a lift of lawleffe refolutes
For food and diet to fome enterprife
* labour, var.qu'fjh'' d.
That
Prince of Denmarke,
That hath a ftomake ia’r, which * no other
As it doth well appeare vnto our flate
But to recouer of vs by ftrong hand
And tearmes compulfatory, thofe forefald lands
So by his father loll ; and this I take it.
Is the maine motiue of our preparations
The fource of this our watch, and the cheefe head
Of this poft-haft and romeage in the land.
Bar. I thinke it be no other but euen Jo f ;
Well may it fort that this portentous figure
Comes armed through our watch fo like the king
That was and is the queftion of thefe warres.
Hora, A moth it is to trouble the mindes eye :
In the moll high and palmy (late of Rome,
A little ere the mightieft lulius fell
The graues flood tennantlelTe, a7idX the Iheeted dead
Did fqueake and gibber in the Romane flreets
As ffarres with traines of fire, and dewes of bloud
Difaflers in the funne ; and the moift ffarre,
Vpon whofe influence Nejtunes empier Hands,
Was flek almofl: to doomefday with eclipfe.
And euen the like precurfe of fearce || euents
As harbingers preceading Hill the fates
And prologue to the omen comming on
Haue heauen and earth together demonflrated
Vnto our climatures and contrimen.
Enter GhoH.
But foft, behold, lo where it comes againe
He crofle it though it blafl: mee : flay illufion,
It fpreads his annes»
If thou haft any found or vfe of voice,
Speake to mec, if there be any good thing to bee done
* ^bicb /j. enjo, | and omitted,
Tiiat
The Tragedy or Hamlet
That may to thee doe eafe and grace to mee,
Speake to mee.
If thou art priuy to thy contryes fate
Which happily foreknowing may auoyd,
O fpeake :
Or if thou haft vphoorded in thy life
Extorted treafure in the wombe of earth.
For which they fay your fpirits oft walke in death.
The cock cro'wes,
Speake of it, ffay and fpeake, Aop it Marcellus.
Mar. Shall I ftrikc it with my partizan ?
Hor. Doe if it will not ftand.
Bar. Tis heere.
Hor. Tis heere.
Mar. Tis gone,
We doe it wrong being fo maieflicall
To offer it the fliowe of violence.
For It is as the ayre invulnerable.
And onr vaine blowes malicious mockery.
Bar. It was about to fpeake when the cock crew ;
Hor. And then it ftarted like a guilty thing,
Vpon a fearefull fummons ; I haue heard.
The cock that is the trumpet to the morne
Doth with his lofty and fhrlll founding throatc '
Awake the god of day, and at his warning
Whether in fea or fire, in earth or ayre,
Th’extrauagant and erring fpirit hyes
To his confine and of the truth heerein
This prefent obie<5l made probation. * •
Mar. It faded on the crowing of the cock.
Some fay that euer gainfl that feafon comes,
Wherein our Sauiours birth is celebrated
\
This bird of dawning fingeth all night long,
And
Prince of Denmarke."
And then they fay no fpirit dare * fturre abroade
The nights are wholfome, then no plannets ftrike.
No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charme
So hallowed and fo gratious is that time.
Hor. So haue I heard and doe in part beleeue it/
But looke the morne in ruffet mantle clad .
Walkes ore the dew of yon high eaftward hill :
Breake wee our watch vp and by my aduife
Let vs impart what wee haue feen to night
Vnto yong Haralety for vpon my life
This fpirit dumb to vs, will fpeake to him ;
Doe you confent wee fhall acquaint him with it
As needfull in our loues fitting our duety.
Mar. Lets doo’t I pray, and I this morning know
Where wee fhall find him inofl conuenient. Exeunt.
Floiirifh. Enter Claudius, king of Denmarke, Gertrad the
qiieencj counfaile : as Polonius, and his fonne Laertes^
Hamlet cum aliis.
Claud. Though yet of Hamlet our deare brothers death
The memory bee greene, and that it vs befitted
To beare our hearts in greefe and our whole kingdome.
To be contraffed in one browe of woe.
Yet fo farre hath difcretion fought with nature,
That wee with wifeft forrow thinke on him
Together with remembrance of ourfelnes :
Therefore our fometime fifler, now our queenc
Th’imperiall ioyntreffe to this warlike ftate
Haue wee as twere with a defeated ioy
With an aufpitious, and a dropping eye.
With mirth in funerall, and with dirge in mariagc
In equall fcale waighing delight and dole
* dsfes.
Tak:a
The Tragedy of HamLet
Taken to wife : nor haue wee herein bard
Your better wifdoines, which haue freely gone
With this affaire along (for all our thankes)
Now followes that you know yong Fortinbrajfe,
Holding a weake fiippofall of our worth
Or thinking by our late deare brothers death
Our Aate to bee difioynt, and out of frame
Colegued with this dreame of his aduantage
Hee hath not faild to peAer vs with meffage
Importing the furrender of thofe lands
LoA by his father, with all bands of law
To our moA valiant brother, fo much for him.
Now for our felfe, and for this time of meeting,
Thus much the bufines is, Ave haue here writ
To Norway vncle of young Fortenbrajfe
Who impotent and bedred fcarcely heares
Of this his nephewes purpofe ; to fuppreffe
His further gate heerein, in that the leuies.
The liAs, and full proportions are all made
Out of his fubieFl * and we heere difpatch ,
You good Cornelius f and you Valtemand,
For f bearers of this greeting to old Norway,
Giuing to you no further perfonall power
To bufines with the king, more then the fcope
Of thefe delated articles allow :
Farwell, and let your haA commend your duty.
Cor. Vo. In that and all things will we Aiow our duty.
Kin. We doubt it nothing, hartely farwell. i
And now Laertes whats the newes with you I
You told vs of fome fute, what iA Laertes ?
You cannot fpeake of reafon to the Dane
And lofe your voyce ; what would’A thou begge Laertes P
* Jubjeeis» f Our,
That
' Prince of Denmarke,,
That (liall not be my offer, not thy afking,
The head is not more natiue to the heart
The hand more inftrumentall to the mouth
Then is the throne of Denmarke to thy father.
What would’ft thou haue Laertes P
Lar. My dread lord.
Your leaue and fauour to returne to France y
From whence though willingly I came to Denmarkcy
To fhow my duty in your coronation;
Yet now I muff confeffe, that duty done
My thoughts and wifhes bend againe toward France,
And bow them to your gracious leaue and pardon.
King. Haue you your fathers leaue, what faies Polonius P
Polo. He hath my lord wrung from me my flow leaue
By labourfome petition, and at lafl
Vpon his will I feald my hard confent,
I doe befeech you giue him leaue to goe.
King, Take thy faire hom e Laertes, time be thine,
And thy beft graces fpend it at thy will :
But now my cofin Hamlet, and my fonne.
Ham. A little more then kin, and lefTe then kinde.
King. How is it that the clowdes fllll hang on you. •
Ham. Not fo much my lord, I am too much in the fonne.
^eene. Good Hamlet cafl thy nigh ted colour off .
And let thine eye looke like a friend on Denmarkey
Doe not for euer with thy vailed lids,
Seeke for thy noble father in the duff.
Thou know’ll tis common all that Hues mull dye,
Faffing through nature to eternitie.
Ham. I Maddam, it is common.
^ee. If it bee
Why feemes it fo perticuler with thee.
Ham, Seemes maddam, nay it is, I know not feemes,
Tis not alone my incky cloake could /mother
* CQdld mother.
K Nor
VoL. IV.
The Tragedy of Hamlet
Nor cuftomary futes of folemne black,
Nor windie fufpiration of forfl breath,
No, nor the fruitfnll riuer in the eye.
Nor the deie^fed hauior of the vifage.
Together with all formes, moodts, Jbapes * of griefe
That denote f me truely, thefe indeed feeme,
For they are a(fl:ions that a man might play.
But I haue that within which pafles Ihowe,
Thefe but the trappings and the fuites of Woe.
King. Tis fweete and commendable in your
Hamlet,
Togiue thefe mourning duties to your father,
But you mufl: know your father loft a father.
That father-loft, loft his, and the furuiuer bound
In filliall obligation for feme tearme
To doe obfequious ferrowes, but to perfeuer
In obftinate condolement, is a courfe
Of impious ftubbornefte, tis vnmanly griefe.
It fliowes a will moft incorre(51: to heauen,
A hart vnfortified, or minde' impatient. \
An vnderftanding fimple and vnfchoold.
For what we know muft be, and is as common
As any the moft vulgar thing to fence.
Why fhould we in our peeuilh oppofttion
Take it to hart, fie, tis a fault to heauen,
A fault againft the dead, a fault to nature,
Toreafen moft abfurd, whofe common theame
Is death of fathers, and who ftill hath’eryed
From the firft courfe J, till he that dyed to day
This muft be fe : we pray you throw to earth
This vnpreuailing woe, and thinke of vs
As of a father, for let the world take note
You are the moft imediate to our throne,
* chapes* "f deveute, denote. J coarfr.
nature
Is
Prince of Denmarke?
And with no le/Ie nobility of loue ' .
Then that which deareh: father beares his fonne^j
Doe I impart toward you for your intent.
Til going back to fchoole to Wittenberg^
It is mod retrogard* to our defire.
And we befeech you bend you to remaine
Heere in the cheare and comfort of our eye,
Our chiefed courtier, cofin, and our fonne.
^ee. Let not thy mother loofe her prayers Hamlet ^
I pray thee day with vs, goe not to Wittenberg,
Ham, I diall in all my bed obay you madam.
King, Why tis alouing and a faire reply,
Be as our felfe in Denmarke, madam come.
This gentle and vnforc’d accord of Hamlet
Sits fmiling to my heart, in grace whereof,
No iocond health that Denmarke drinkes to day,
But the great cannon to the clowdes diall tell.
And the kings rowfe the heauen diall brute againe,
Refpeaking earthly thunder ; come away.
FloriJJj, Exeunt all but Hamleti
Ham, O that this too too fallied flefh would melt,
Thaw and refolue it felfe into a dew,
Or that the euerlading had not fixt
His cannon gaind /eale f daughter, 6 God, God,
How wary, dale, flat, and vnprofitable
Seeme tome all the vfes of this world ?
Fie on’t, ah fie, tis an vnweeded garden.
That growes to feed, things ranck and grofe in nature,
Poflefle it meerely that it diould come thus
But two months dead, nay not fo much, not two, ■
So excellent a king, that was to this
Hyperion to a fatire, fo louing to my mother,
That he might not beteeme § the winds of heauen
^ * retrograde. *f Jelf, ^ let e'er,
N 2 Vide
The Tragedy of Hamlet
Vifit her face too roughly : heauen and earth
Mufti remember, why (he fhould hang on him
As if increafe of appetite had growne
By what it fed on, and yet within a month,
Let me not thinke on’t ; frailty thy name is woman
A little month. On ere thofe ftiooes were old
\
With which (he followed my poore fathers body
Like Niobe all teares, why (lie
O God ! a beaft that wants difcourfe of reafon
Would haue mourn’d longer, married with my vncic.
My fathers brother, but no more like my father
Then I to Hercules^ within a month.
Ere yet the fait of moft vnrighteous teares
Had left the flufhing in her gauled eyes
She married oh ! moft wicked fpeed ; to poft
With fuch dexterity to inceftious (heetes,
It is not, nor it cannot come to good.
But breake my heart for I muft hold my tongue.
Enter Horatio, Marcellus and Bernardo.
Hora. Haile to your lordftiippe.
Ham, I am glad to fee you well ; Horatio, or I do forget,
my felfe.
Hora. The fame my lord, and your poore feruant euer.
Ham, Sir my good friend. He change that name with you.
And what make you from Wittenberg Horatio P
Marcellus.
Mar. My good lord.
Ham. I am very glad to fee you, (good cuen fir)
But what in faith make you from Wittenberg P
Hora. A truant difpofitiou good my lord.
Ham. I would not heare your enemie fay fo.
Nor (hall you do my care that vlofeufe
To
Prince of Denmarke.
To make It trufler of your owne report
Againft your felfe, I know you are no truant.
But what is your affaire in Elfonoure? '
Weele teach you for to drinke ere you depart.
Hora. My lord, I came to fee your fathers funerall.
Ham. I prethee doe not mocke me fellow fludent,
I thinke it v/as to my mothers wedding.
Hora. Indeed my lord it followed hard vpon.
Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio^ the funerall bak’t meates
Did coldly furnifh forth the marriage tables.
Would I had met my dearefl foe in heauen
Or euer I had feene.that day Horatio.
My father me thinkes I fee my father,
Hora. Where my lord ?
Ham. In my mindes eye Horatio.
Hora. I faw him once, a was a goodly king.
Ham. A was a man take him for all in all
I fhall not looke vpon his like againe.
Hora. My lord I thinke I faw him yeflernight.
Ham. Saw, who ?
Hora. My lord the king your father.
Ham. The king my father ?
Hora. Seafon your admiration for a while
With an attentiue * eare till I may delluer
Vpon the witnefTe of thefe gentlemen
This marualle to you.
Ham., For Gods loue let me heare ?
Hora. Two nights together had thefe gentlemen
Marcellus^ and Barnardo, on their watch.
In the dead 'waji f and middle of the night t
Beene thus incountred, a figure like your father
Armed at poynt, exa6Ily Cap apea
Appeares before them, and with folemne march, *
f vajl.
N 3'
* attent.
Goes
The Tragedy or Hamlet
Coes flowe and {lately by them ; thrice he walkt
By their opprefl and feare furprifed eyes,
Within this ^ tronchions length, whilft they diflii’d
Almoft to gelly, with the a<ft of feare '
Stand dumbe and fpeake not to him ; this to me.
In dreadfull fecrecy impart they did.
And I with them the third night kept the watch.
Whereas they had deliucred both in time,
Forme of the thing, each word made true and good.
The apparifion comes : I knew your father,
Thefe hands are not more like,
Ham. But where was this ?
Mar. My lord vpon the platforme where wee watcht,
Ham. Did you not fpeake to it ?
Nora. My lord I did.
But anfwer made it none, yet once mee thought
It lifted vp it * head and did addrefle
Tt felfe to motion, like as it would fpeake:
But euen then the morning cock crew loude,
And at the found it fhruheke in haft away
And vanifht from our light.
Ham. Tis very ftrange. .
Hora. As I doe liue my honor’d lord tis true
And wee did thinke it writ downe in our duety
To let you know of it.
Ham. Indeede firs but this troubles me, • '
Hold you the watch to night ?
Jll. Wee doe- my lord. ^ ' ..m » . a . a
Ham. Arm’d fay you ?
JU. Arm’d my lord.
Ham. From top to toe ? ; ;
Jll. My lord from head to foote.
Ham. Then faw you not his face ?
* its.
Hora.
Prince of Denmarke.
Bora. O yes my lord, hee wore his beauer vp.
Ham. What look’t hee frowningly ?
Hora, A countenance more in forrow then in anger.
Ham. Pale or red ? ■
Hora. Nay very pale.
Ham. And Ext his eyes vpon you ?
Hora. Moft conflantly.
Ham. I would I had beene there.
Hora. It would haue much amaz’d you.
Ham. Very like : ftaid it long ?
Hora. While one with moderate haft might tell a hundreth.'
Both. Longer, longer.
Hora. Not when I faw’t.
Ham. His beard was grifs’ld, no.
Hora. It was as I haue feene it in his life-,
A fable filuer’d.
Ham. I will watch to night
Perchance twill walke againe.
Hora. L warn’t it will.
Ham. If it aftume my noble fathers perfon, • .
He fpeake to it though hell it felfe fhould gape
And bid mee hold my peace ; I pray you all
If you haue hetherto conceald this fight
Let it be tenable in your filence ftill,
'And whatfoeuer els ftiall hap to night,
Giue it an vnderftanding but no tongue,
I will requite your loues, fo fare you well :
Vpon the platforme twixt a leauen and twelue.
He vifit you.
All. Our duety to your homor. Exeunt.
Ham. Your loues as mine to you; farewell.
My fathers fpirit (in armes) all is not well,
I doubt fome foule play, would the night w'ere come,
. ■ 'N 4 ' Til! "
The Tragedy of Hamlet
Till then fit fUll my foule, foule * deedes will rife
Though all the earth ore-whelme them to mens eyes. Exit,
Enter Laertes and Ophelia his JiJier,
Laer. My necefliiries are inbarckt, farewell,
And filler as the winds giue benefit
And conuay, in alTiftant, do not fleepe
But let me heare from you.
Ophe. Doe you doubt that ?
Laer. For Hamlet and the trifling of his fauour,
Hold it a falhion, and a toy in blood,
A violet in the youth of primy f nature,
Forward, not permanent, fweet, not lafling.
The perfume and fuppliance of a minute
No more.
Ophe. No more but fo.
Laer, Thinke it no more.
For nature crefTant does not grow alone.
In thewes and bulkes, but as this temple waxes
The inward feruice of the mind and foule
Growes wide withall, perhaps hee loues you now.
And now no foyle nor cautell doth befmerch
The vertue of his will, but you mull: feare.
His greatnes waid, his will is not his owne.
He may not as vnualewed perfons doe.
Crane f for himfelfe, for on his choife depends
The fafety and health of this whole Hate,
And therefore mull his choife be circumferib’d,
Vnto the voyce and yeeldingof that body,
Whereof he is the head, then if he faies he loues you,
It fits your wifdome fo farre to beleeueit
As he in his particuler aft and place
*fond, -j- prime, J carite.
May
Prince of Denmarke
May glue his faying deede, which Is no further.
Then the malne voyce of Denmarke goes withall.
Then way what Ioffe your honor may fuftaine,
If with too credent eare you lift his fongs
Or loofe your heart, or your chaft treafure open.
To his vnmaftred importunity.
Feare it Ophelia^ feare it my deare fifter.
And keepe you in the reare of your aftecftion
Out of the (hot and danger of defire,
“ The charieft maide is prodigall enough
If ftie VRmafke her beauty to the moone
‘‘ Vertue it felfe fcapcs not calumnious ftrokes
“ The canker gaules the infant of the fpring
Too oft before their buttons be difclos’d,
And in the morne and liquid dew of youth
Contagious blaftments are moft iminent.
Be wary then, beft fafety lies in feare.
Youth to it felfe rebels though none elfe neare.
Ophe. I fhall the effecft of this good leftbn keepe.
As 'watchmen * to my heart ; but good my brother
Doe not as fome vngracious paftors doe.
Show me the Jieepe f and thorny way to % heauea
Whiles a puft, and feckles libertine,
Himfelfe the primrofe path of dalicnce treads.
And reakes not his owne reed.
Enter Polonius.
Laer, O feare me not,
I ftay too long, but heere my father comes
A double bleffing, is a double grace,
Occafion fmiles vpon a fecond leaue.
PeL Yet here Laertes ? a bord, a bord for ftiamc,
♦ rveatehman, f J of.
The Tragedy of Hamlet
The wind fits. in the fhoulder of your faile.
And you are ftaled for, there my bieifing with thee,
And thefe few precepts in thy memory
Looke thou character, giue thy thoughts no tongue,
Nor any vnproportion’d thought his ac}.
Be thou familier, but by no meanes vulgar,
Thofe friends thou haft and their adoption tried.
Grapple them vnto thy foule with hoopes of fteele.
But do not dull thy palme with entertainement
Of each new hatch t vnfledgd courage ; beware
Of entrance to a quarrell, but beeing in,
Bear’t that th’ oppofer * may beware of thee.
Giue euery man thy eare, but few thy voyce.
Take each man’s cenfure, but referue thy iudgement.
Coftly thy habite as thy purfe cambuy.
But not expreft in fancy ; rich not gaudy,
For the apparrell oft proclaimes the man :
And they in France of the beft ranck and ftation,
j4r \ oi 2i moft fele<ft and generous, cheefe in that :
Neither a borrower nor a lender boy.
For loue oft loofes both it felfe, and friend.
And borrowing dulleth f the § edge of hufbandry :
This aboue all, to thine owne felfe be true
And it muft follow as the night the || day
Thou canft not then bee falfe to any man i
Farewell, my blefling feafon this in thee.
Laer, Moft humbly do I take my leaue my lord.
PoL The time inuefts you, goe, your feruants tend. ^
Laer. Farewell OJ>helia, and remember well
What I haue faid tdyou.
■ Ophe. Tis in my memory lockt
And you your felfe fhall keepe the key of it.
Laer. Farewell. Fx/V Laertes.
# -f Or. I dullt, § the omitted, U to,
•’r
Pol.
Prii^ce of Denmarke.
Pol What ilT Ophelia hee hath faid to you ?
Ophe. So pleafe you, fomething touching the lord Hamlet.
Pol. Marry well bethought
Tis told me hee hath very oft of late
Giuen priuate time to you, and you your felfe
Haue of your audience beene mcfi: free and bountious,
If it be fo, as fo ti^ put on me.
And that in way of caution, I muft tell you.
You doe not vnderftand your felfe fo cleerely
As it behooues my daughter and your honor.
What is betweene you giue me vp the truth.
Ophe. He hath my lord of late made many tenders
Of his afFe(flion to me.
Pol. Affe6lion, puh, you fpeake like a greene girle,
Vnfifted in fuch perrilous circumflance.
Doe you belieue his tenders, as you call them
Ophe. I doe not know my lord what I fhould thinke.
Pol Marry I will teach you, thinke your felfe a babie.
That you haue tane thefe tenders for true pay.
Which are not flerling : tender your felfe more dearely
Or (not to crack the winde of the poore phrafe)
Wrong it thus*, youle tender me a foole.
Ophe. My lord he hath importun’d me with louc
In honorable faftiion. ’ ’ ' , •
Pol I, fafliion you may call it, go to, go to.
' Ophe. And hath giuen countenance to His fpeech
My lord, with almOil all the holy vowes of heaueii.
Pol I, fpringes to catch wood cocks, I doe know
When the blood burnes, how prodigall the foule
Lends the tongue vowes, thefe blazes daughter
Giuing more light then heatc, extincf in both
Euen in their promife, as it is a making
You muff not tak't f for fire : from this time
*'The parenthefis in the hrft edition takes in as far z^^-tbus)
Be
The Tragedy of Hamlet
Be fome-thing fcantcr of your maiden prefence
Set your intreatments at a higher rate
Then a command to f>arle J ; for lord Hamlet,
Belieue fo much in him, that he is young.
And with a larger teder may he^walke
Then may be giuen you : in few Ophelia,
Doe not belieue his vowes, for they arc brokers
Not of that die which their inueftments (how
But meere implorators of vnholy fuites,
Breathing like fan(51:ified and pious bonds
The better to beguile f : this is for all,
I would not in plaine termes from this time foorth
Haue you fo flaunder any moments leafure
As to giue words or talke with the lord Hamlet,
Looke' too’t I charge you, come your wayes.
Ophe, I (hall obey my lord. Exeunt*
\
' Enter Hamlet, Horatio, and Marcellus.
Ham. The ay re bites fliroudly, it is very colde.
Hora. It is nipping, and an eager ayre.
Ham. What hour now ?
Hora. I thinke it lackes of twelue.
Mar. No, it is ftrooke.
Hor. Indeede ; I heard it not, it then drawes neere the feafon
Wherein the fpirit held his wont to walke.
A fiorijh of trumpets and 2 peeces goes off.
Ham. The king doth ivalke J to night and takes hisrowfe.
Keepes walTell and the fwaggring vp-fpring reeles :
And as he draines his drafts of Rennifj downe.
The kettle druinme and trumpet, thus bray out
The triumph of his pledge.
Hora. Is it a cuflome ?
, (] parley. -j- heguide. J zL'a-he.
Ham*
Prince of Denmarke^
Ham, I marry Ifl,
But to my mind, though I am natiue heere
And to the manner borne, it is a cuflome
More honour d in the breach, then the obferuancc.
This heauy-headed reuelie eaft and weft
Makes vs traduc’d and taxed of other nations.
They clip vs drunkards and with fwinifti phrafe
Soyle our addition, and indeed it takes
From our atchieuements, though perform’d at height
The pith and marow of our attribute.
So oft it chances in particuler men,
That for fome vitious mole of nature in them
As in their birth wherein they are not guilty,
(Since nature cannot choofe his origen)
By their ore-grow’th of fome complexion
Oft breaking downe the pales and forts of reafon.
Or by fome habite that too much ore-leauens
The forme of plaufiue manners, that thefe men
Carrying I fay the ftamp of one defedt
Being natures liuery, or fortunes ftarre.
His vertues els be they as pure as grace.
As infinit as man may vndergoe.
Shall in the generall cenfure take corruption
From that particular fault : the dram of eafe ^
Doth all the noble fubftance of a doubt
To his own fcandall.
Enter Ghoft.
Hora. Looke my lord it comes.
Ham, Angels and minifters of grace defend vs !
Be thou a fpirit of health, or goblin damn’d.
Bring with thee ayres from heauen, or blafts from hell.
Be thy intents wicked or charitable.
Thou
The Tragedy of Hamlet
Thou corn’ll: In fuch a queftlonabic Ihape,
That I will fpcake to tliee, lie call thee Hamlet,
King, father, royall Dane, 6 anfwere mee,
Let mee not hurfi in Ignorance, but tell
Why thy canoniz’d bones hearfed in death
Haue burfl their cerements ? why the fepulchei*,
Wherein wee faw thee quietly interr’d *
Hath opt his ponderous and marble iawes.
To call thee vp againe ? what may this meane
That thou dead corfe, againe in compleat fleeic
Reuifites thus the glimfes of the moone,
Making night hideous, and wee fooles of nature
So horridly to lhake bur difpofition
With thought's beyond'the reaches of our foules.
Say why is this, wherefore, what fhould we doe ?
BeckonSi
Hora, It beckons you to goe away with it
As If it fome impartment did delire
To you alone.
Mar. Looke with what curteous aiflion
It waucs you to a more remooued ground,
But doe not goe with it.
Hora. No, by no meanes.
Ham. Jt will not fpeake, then I will follow lt<
Hora. Doe not my lord.
Ham. ,Why ? what fliould bee the feare,
I doe not fet my life at a pinnes fee.
And for my foule, what can it doe to that
Being a thing immortall * it felfe;
It waues me forth againe, He follow it.
Hora. What if it tempt you towards the flood my 'lord,
Or to the dreadfiill fomnet of the cleefe
That bettek ore his bafe into the fea,
* l\kt.
And
Prince of Denmarke,
And there aflume fome other horrible forme
Which might depriue your foueraignty of reafon.
And drawe you Into madneflTe, thinke of it.
The very place puts toyes of defperation
Without more motiue, into euery braine
That lookes fo many fadoms to the fea
And heares it rorc beneath.
Ham. It waues me dill,
Goe on. He follow thee.
Mar. You lhall not goe my lord.
Ham. Hold of your hands.
Hora. Be rul’d, you fnall not goe.
Ham. My fate cries out
And makes each petty artyre * In this body
As hardy as the Nernean lyons nerue ;
Still am I cald, vnhand me gentlemen
By heauen He make a ghoft of him that lets me,
I fay away, goe one f, He follow thee.
Exit Ghod and Hamlet.
Hor. He waxes defperate with Imagination.
Mar. Lets follow, tis not fit thus to obey him,
Hora. Haue after, to what iffue will this come ?
Mar. Something is rotten in the date of Denmarke,
Hora. Heauen will direct it.
Mar. Nay lets follow him. Exeunt^
Enter Ghod and Hamlet.
Whether wilt thou leade me, fpeake, lie goe no further,
Ghoji. Marke me.
Ham, I will.
Ghoji. My houre Is almod come
When I to fulphrous and tormenting flames
Mud render vp my felfe.
Ham. Alafle poore ghod.
* attirti arttrj,
Chjf.
The Tragedy of Hamlet
Chojl, Pitty me not, but lend thy ferious hearing
To what I (hall vnfold.
Ham, Speake I am bound to here.
Ghojl. So art thou to reuengc, when thou (halt hearc.
Harris What ?
Ghojl. I am thy fathers fpirit,
Doomd for a certaine tearme to walke the night '
And for the day confind to fa(t in fires,
Till the foule crimes done in my dales of nature
Are burnt and purg’d away ; but that I am forbid
To tell the.fecrets of my prifon-houfe,
I could a tale vnfolde whofe lighted: word
Would harrow vp thy foule, freeze thy young blood,
Make thy two eyes like.dars dart from their fpheres.
Thy knotted and combined locks to part.
And each particular haire to dand an end.
Like quils vpon the fearefull porpentine :
But this eternall blazon mud not be
To eares of fle(h and blood, lid, lid, O lid.
If thou did’d euer thy deare father loue.
Ham. O God.
Choji. Reuenge his foule *, and mod vnnaturall murther.
Ham. Murther.
Ghoji. Murther mod foule, as in the bed it is.
Bat this mod foule, drange and vnnaturall.
Ham. Had me to know’t, that I with wings as fwift,
As meditation, or the thoughts of loue
May fweepe to my reuenge.
Chojl. I find thee apt,
And duller (houlded thou be then the fat weede
That rootes it felfe in eafe on Lethe wharfFe,
Would’d thou not durre in this ; now Hamlet hearc,
Tis giuen out, that (leeping in my orchard,
A fcrpent.
Prince of DenmarkeT
Aferpent ftung me, fo the whole eare of Denmarke.
Is by a forged procefle of my death
Ranckely abufed : but know thou noble youth.
The ferpent that did fling thy fathers life
Now weares his crowne.
Ham. O my prophetike foule ! my vncle !
Ghoji. I that incefluous, that adulterate beaff,
With witchraft of his wits, with trayterous gifts,
O wicked wit, and giftes that haue the power
So to fed lice ; wonne to his fliamfull luff
The will of my mofl: feeming vertuous qucene ;
0 Hamlet, what falling off was there
From me whofe loue was of that dignity
That it went hand in hand, euen with the vow
1 made to her in marriage, and to decline
Vpon a wretch whofe naturall gifts were poore,
To thofeof mine ; but vertue as it neuer will be mooued.
Though lewdnelle court it in a fnape of heauen
So but though to a radiant angle linckt.
Will fort it felfe in a celeftiall bed
And pray on garbage.
But foft, me thinkes I fcent the morning ayre,
Briefe let me be ; Beeping within my orchard,
My cuftome alwayes of the afternoone,
Vpon my fecure houre, thy vncle Bole
With iuyce of curfed Hebona in a viall.
And in the porches of my eares did poure.
The leaprous diBilment, whofe eBecl
Holds fuch an enmity with blood of man.
That fwift as quickfBuer it courfes through
The naturall gates and allies of the body.
And with a fodaine vigour it doth poffeBe,
And curde like eager droppings into milke.
The thin and wholfome blood ; fo did it mine,
VoL. IV. O
And
The Tragedy of Hamlet
And a mofi: inftant tetter barkt about
MoH: Idzcrlike * with vile and lothfome crufl
'All my finooth body.
Thus was I fleeping by a brothers hand,
Of life, of crowne, of queene at once difpatcht.
Cut off euen in the bloffomes of my finne,
Vnnuzled, difappointed, vn-anueld,
No reckning made, but fent to my account
With all my imperfections on my head,
0 horrible, O horrible, molt horrible.
If thou haft nature in thee beare it not,
Let not the royall bed of Denmarke be
A couch for luxury and damned inceft.
But howfomeuer thou piirfues f this aCf,
-Tain’t not thy minde, nor let thy foule contrlue
Againff thy mother ought, leaue her to heauen.
And to thofe thornes that in her bofome lodge
To pricke and fling her : fare thee well at once^
The gloworme fhewes die matine to be neere
And gins to pale his vneffecluall fire,
Adiew, adlew, adiew, remember me.
Ham. O all you hofl of heauen I O earth ! what elfe,.
And fliall I couple hell, O fie ! holdX, tny heart.
And you my fmnowes ; grow not inflant old,
But beare me fwiftly vp ; remember thee,
1 thou poore ghofl whiles memory holds a feate
In this dilfraCled globe, remember thee.
Yea, from the table of my memory
He wipe away all triuiall fond records.
All fawe § of bookes, all formes, all preffures pair
That youth and obferuation coppied there.
And thy commandement all alone fliall liue,
Within the booke and volume of my braine
^ htzar-Uke, f furfuej}. J bolJ^ lo’d. § fa’tves,
Vnmixt
Prince of Denmarke^
Vnmixt with bafer matter, yes by heauen.
O moft prenicious woman.
0 villaine, villaine, imiling damned villaine.
My tables, meet it is I fet it downe
That one may fmile, and fmile, and be a villaine*
At leaft I am fure it may be foin Denmarke,
So vncle, there you are, now to my word.
It is adew, adew, remember me.
1 haue fworn’t.
Enter Horatio, and Marcellus.
Hora, My lord, my lord.
Mar, Lord Hamlet.
Hora. Heauens fecure him.
Ham. So be it.
Mar. Illo, ho, ho, my lord.
Ham. Hillo, ho, ho, boy come, and come.
Mar. How i’ft my noble lord ? *
Hora f. O, wonderfull !
Hor. Good my lord tell it.
Ham. No, you will reueale it. ,
Hora. Not I my lord by heauen.
Mar. Nor I my lord.
Ham. How fay you then, would hart of man once thinke it.
But you’le be fecret.
Both. I by heauen.
Ham. There’s neuer a villaine,
Dwelling in all Denmarke
But hee’s an arrant knaue.
Hora, There needs no ghofl my lord, come from the graue
To tell vs this.
Ham. Why right, you are in the right,
• Hora. What nenves my lord ?
This line is added from the firft edition,
t Ham.
02
And
The Tragedy of Hamlet
And fo without more circnmflance at all,
I hold it fit that we fhake hands and part,
You, as your bufinefle and defire fhall point you.
For euery man hath bufinefTe and defire
Such as it is, and for my owne poore part
I will goe pray.
Hora. Thefe are but wilde and whurling words my lord.
Ham. I am forry they offend you heartily.
Yes faith heartily.
Hora. There’s, no offence my lord.
Ham. Yes by faint Patrick but there Is Horatio,
And much offence to, touching this vifion heere,
It is an honeff ghoft, that let me tell you.
For your defire to know what is betweene vs,
Ore-maifler’t as you may, and now good friends.
As you are friends, fchollers, and fouldiers,
Giue me one poore requeff.
Hora. What i’ft my lord, we will.
Ham. Neuer make knowne what you haue feene to night.
Both. My lord we will not.
Ham. but fwear’t.
Hora. In faith my lord not I.
Mar. Nor I my lord in faith.
Ham. Vppon my fword.
Mar. Wee haue fworne my lord already.
Ham. Indeed vppon my fword, indeed.
Ghofl cryes vndcr the Jiage.
Chojl. Sweare.
Ham. Ha, ha, boy, fay’fl thou fo, art thou there true penny ?
Come on, you heare this fellow in the fellerige,
Confent to fweare.
Hora. Propofe the oath my lord. •
Ham. Neuer to fpeake of this that you haue feene,
Sweare by the fword.
C hoji.
. Prince of Denmarke.’'
Ghofi. Sweare.
Ham. Hie, 6" vhiqiie, then wcele flilft our ground :
Come hether gentlemen
And lay your hands againe vpon my fword,
Sweare by my fword
Neuer to fpeake of this that you haue heard.
Ghojl. Sweare by his f^rd.
Ham. Well faid old mole, canjl* worke it’h earth fofii/l,
A worthy pioner once more remooue good friends.
Hora. O day and night, but this is wondrous flrange.
Ham. And therefore as a Granger giue it welcome,
7'here are more thinges in heauen and earth Horatio
Then are dream’ t of in your philofophy : but come
Hecre as before, neuer fo helpe you mercy,
(How ft range or odde fo mere f I beare my felfe,
As I perchance heercafter fhall thinke meet.
To put an antike dlfpofition on
That you. at fuch times feeing mee, neuer ftiall
With armes incombred thus, or this head /hake t,
Or by pronouncing of fome doubtfull phrafe.
As, well, well wee know, or wee could and if wee would.
Or if wee lift to fpeake’ or there be and if they might.
Or fuch ambiguous giuing out, to note)
That you knowe ought of mee, this do fweare.
So grace and mercy at your moft neede helpe you .
Ghoji. Sweare.
Ham, Reft, reft perturbed fpirit : fo gentlemen.
With all my loue I doe commend me to you,
And what fo poore a man as Hamlet is.
May doe t’exprefte his loue and frending to you
God willing fhall not lacke : let vs goe In together.
And ftill your fingers on your lips I pray,
The time is out of ioynt. Ocurfed fpight !
* canji thou. f ere. J head thus J}?ak'd
o 3
Tliat
The Tragedy of Hamlet
That eiicr I was borne to fet it right.
Nay come, lets goe together. Exeunt,
Enter old Polonius, with his man or two.
Pol. Giue him this mony, and thefe two * notes Reynaldo,
, Rey. I will my lord.
Pol. You fliall do marueloiis wifely good Reynaldo,
Before you vifite him, to make inquire,
Of his behauiour.
Rey. My lord, I did intend It.
Pol. Mary well faid, very well faid ; looke you lir.
Enquire me firft what Danskers are in Paris.
And how, and who, what meanes, and where they keepe,
What company, at what expence, and finding.
By this encompafment, and drift of queffion
That they doe know my fonne, come you more neerer
Then your perticuler demaunds will tuch it,
Take you as t’were fome diflant knowledge of him,
As thus, I know his father, and his friends.
And in part him, doe you marke this Reynaldo P
Rey. I, very w’ell my lord.
Pol. And in part him, but you may fay, not well.
But y’ft be he I meane, hee’s very wilde,
Addiffed fo and fo, and there put on him
What forgeries you pleafe, marry none fo ranck
As may difhonour him, take heed of that,
But fir, fuch wanton, wild, and vfuall flips.
As are companions noted and mofl: knowne
To youth and libertie.
Rey. As gaming my lord. '
Pol. I, or drinking, fencing, fwearing.
Quarrelling, drubbing, you may goe fo farre.
•* t%uo omitted.
Rey,
I
Prince of Denmarke.
Rey. My lord, that would difhonour him.
Pol. Fayth as you may feafon it in the charge.
You mud: not put another fcandall on him,
That he is open to incontinency,
That’s not my meaning, but breath his faults fo quently
That they may feeme the taints of liberty,
The flafh and out-breake of a fiery mind,
A fauagenes in vnreclamed blood.
Of generall alTault.
Rey. But my good lord.
Pol. Wherfor (hould you doe this ?
Rey. I my lord, I would know that.
Pol. 'Marry fir, hecr’s my drift.
And I beleeue it is a fetch of wit.
You laying thefe iWght ful lies * on my fonne
• As t’were a thing a little foyld with working,
Marke you, your party in conuerfe, him you would found
Hauing euer feene in the prenominat crimes
The youth you breath of guilty, be afiur’d
He clofes with you in this cofequence.
Good fir, (or fo,) or friend, or gentleman.
According to the phrafe, or the addition
Of man and country.
Rey. Very good my lord.
Pol. And then fir doos a this, a doos : what wasi about to fay ?
By the mafie I was about to fay fomething.
Where did I leaue ?
Rey. At clofes in the confequence.
Pol. clofes in the confequence, I marry.
He clofes thus, I know the gentleman
I fay him yefferday, or th’other day.
Or then, or then, with fuch or fuch, and as you fay,
There was a gaming there, or tooke in’s rowfe,
# fallies.
04
There
The Tragedy of Hamlet
There falling out at tennis, or perchance
I faw him enter fuch cr * fuch a houfe of Tale,
Videlizct, a brothell, or fo foorth, fee you now.
Your bait of fallhood : take this carpe of truth.
And thus doe we of wifdome, and of reach.
With windlefTcs : and with affaies of bias.
By indire£Js f find direffions our.
So by my former ieeffure and aduife
Shall you my fonne ; you haue me, hauc you not ?
Key. My lord, I haue.
Pol. God buy yee, far yee well.
Rey. Good my lord.
Pol. Obferue his inclination in your felfe,
Rey. I fhall my lord.
Pol. And let him ply his mufique.
Rey. Well my lord. Exit
Enter Ophelia.
Polo. Farwell. How now Ophelia^ whats the matter
Opke. O my lord, my lord, I haue beene fo affrighted
Polo. With what i’th name of God ?
Ophe. My lord, as I was fowing.in my clofTet,
Lord Hamlet with his doublet all vnbrac’d.
No hat vpon his head, his flockins fouled,
Vngartred, and downe gyred J to his ankle.
Pale as his fliirt, his knees knocking each other,
And with a looke fo pitiious in purport
As if he had beene loofed out of hell
To fpeake of horrors, he comes before me.
Polo. Mad for thy loue ?
Gphe. My lord I do not know,
put truly I doe feare it.
folo. Whatfaidhe.^
* ar.d -f indlreBionz. J
Prince of Denmarke.’
Ophe. He tooke me by the wrifi:, and held me hard.
Then goes he to the length of all his arme,
And with his other hand thus ore his brow.
He falls, to fuch pern fall of my flice
As a would draw it ; long ftayd he fo,
At laft, a little (baking of mine arme,
And thrice his head thus w^auing vp and downe.
He raifed a figh fo pittions and profound.
As it did feeme to ihatter all his bulke,
And end his being ; that done, he lets me go.
And wiih his head oner his (lioulders turn’d
He feez’d to find his way without his eyes,
For out a doores he went without their helps.
And to the lafc bended their lighten me.
Pol. Come, goe with me, I will goe feeke the king,
This is the very extacy of loue,
Whofe violent property/br^o^j it felfe.
And leads the will to defperat vndertakings
As oft as any paffions vnder heauen
That dooes afBicl our natures : I am forry.
What, haue you giuen him any hard words of late ?
Ophe. No my good lord, but as you did commaund
I did repell his letters : and denied
His acceffe to me.
Pol. That hath made him mad.
I am forry, that with better heede and mdgement
I had not coted f him, I fear’d he did but trifle
And meant to wracke thee, but befhrow my ieloufle
By heauen it is as proper to our age
To cafl beyond our felues in our opinions.
As it is common for the younger fort
To lack diferetion j come, goe we to the king,
* foredoes t 'f coated^
This
The Tragedy of Hamlet
This muft be knowne, which beeingkept clofc, might mouc
More griefe to hide, then hate to vtter lone,
Come. Exeunt.
FlorlJI). Enfer'KXngandQnttnty Rofcncraus Guyldenfterne.
King. Welcome deere Rofencraus and Guyldenjlerney
Morcouer, that we much did long to fee you,
The need we haue to vfe you did prouokc
Our hafty fending, fomething haue you heard
Of Hamlets transformation, fo call it,
Sith nor th’exterior, nor the inward man
Refembles that it was, what it fhould be.
More then his fathers death, that thus hath put him.
So much from the’vnderftanding of himfelfe
I cannot dreame of : I entreat you both.
That beeing of fo young daies brought vp with him,
And fith fo neighbored to his youth and hauior.
That you voutfafe your refl heere in our court
Some little tjme, fo by your companies
To draw him on to pleafures, and to gather
So much as from occafion you may gleane.
Whether ought to vs vnknowne afflidts him thus.
That opend lies within our remedy.
^lee. Good gentlemen, he hath much talkt of you.
And fure I am, two men there are * not lining.
To whome he more adheres, if it will pleafe you,
To (hew vs fo much gentry and good will.
As to extend f .your time with vs a while,
For the fupply and profit of our hope.
Your vifitation (hall receiue fuch thankes
As fits a kings remembrance.
Rof. Both your maiefties
flight by the foueraigne power you haue of vs,
* i$, "f expend.
Put
Prince of DenmarkeT
Put your your dread pleafures more into commaund
Then to intreaty.
CiiyL But we both obey,
And here glue vp our felues in the full bent,
To lay our feruice freely at your feete §.
King, Thankes Rofencraus, and gentle Guyldenflerne,
^lee. Thankes Guyldenflerne ^ and gentle Rofcencraus.
And I befeech you inftantly to vilite
My too much changed fonne : goe fome of you
And bring thefe gentlemen where Hamlet is.
Guyl. Heauens make our prefence and our pra^lices
Pleafant and helpfull to him.
^lee, I amen. Exeunt Rof. and Guyld.
Enter Polonius. ^
Pol, Th’embalTadors from Norway my good lord.
Are ioyfully returnd.
King, Thou Rill had beene the father of good newes.
Pol. Plane I my lord ? I affure my good liege
I hold my duty as I hold my foule.
Both to my God, and to my gracious king ;
And i doe thinke, or elfe this braine of mine
Hunts not the trayle of policie fo fure •
As it hath vfd to doe, that I haue found
The very caufe of Hamlets lunacy.
King, O fpeake of that, that do I long to heare.
Polo, Giue firft admittance to th’ embaffadors.
My newes (hall be the frute to that great feafi:,
King, Thy felfe doe grace to them, and bring them In.
He tells me my decree f : Gertrud he hath found
The head and fource of all your fonnes diftemper.
§ ta be commanded. This is added from the firft edition.
■f dear.
The Tragedy of Hamlet
^ice: I doubt it is no other but the maine.
His fathers death, and our hall:y marriage.
Enter embajfadors.
King. Well, we fhall fift him, welcome my good friends.
Say Voltemand, what from our brother Norway ?
Volte. Moft faire returne of greetings and defires ;
Vpon our firH:, he fent out to fupprerTe
His nephews leuies, which to him appeared
To be a preparation gainfl the Pollacke^
But better lookt into, he truly found
It was againfl: your highnelTe, whereat greeu’d
That fo his ficknefle, age, and impotence
Was falfely borne in hand, fends out arrefls
On Fortenbrajfey which he in breefe obeyes,
Receiues rebuke from Norway, and in fine.
Makes vow before his vncle, neuer more
To giue th’afiay of arm'es againfl: your maiefiy :
Whereon old Norway ouercome with ioy,
Giues him threefcore thou fan d cro wires in anuall fee,
And his commiffion to imploy thofe fouldiers,
Soleuied (as before) againit the Pollacke,
With an entreaty herein further flrone.
That it might pleafe you 'to giue quiet pafTe
Through your dominions for this enterprife
On fiich regards of fafety and allowance
As therein are fet downe.
King. It likes vs well,
And at our more confidered time, wee’le read,
Anfwer, and thinke vpon this bufines :
Meane time, we thanke you for your well tooke labour,
Goe to your reft, at night weele feafi together,
Mofl: welcome home. Exeunt embajfadors .
Pol. This bufines is well ended.
My liege and maddam, to expofhulate
What
Prince of Denmarks.
What maiefty fhould be, what duety is.
Why day is day, night night, and time is time.
Were nothing but to waft night, day, and time,
Therefore breuity is the foule of wit.
And tedioufnes the limmes and outward florifties :
I will be breefe your noble fonne is mad ;
Mad call I it, for to define true madnes,
'What ift but to be nothing elfe but mad ?
But let that goe.
^lee. More matter with leffe art.
Pol. Maddam, I fweare I vfe no art at all.
That hee’s mad tis true, tis true, tis pitty.
And pitty tis, tis true, a foolifh figure,
But farewell it, for I will vfe no art.
Mad let vs grant him then, and now remaines
That we find out the caufe of this efre<ft:.
Or rather fay the caufe of this defedt
For this effeft defedfiue comes by caufe :
Thus it remaines and 'the remainder thus
Perpend,
I haue a daughter, haue while fhe is mine.
Who in her duety and obedience, marke.
Hath giuen me this, now gather and furmife.
To the celejliall and my Joules idol, the mojl beautified Ophelia,
ihafs an ill phr of e^ a vile phrafe^ beautified is a vile phrafe,
but you JJjall heare : thus in her excellent vjbite bojome^
theje 6'c.
^lee. Came this from Hamlet to her ?
Pol. Good maddam flay awhile, I will be faithful!.
* and omitted.
Letter.
The Tragedy of Hamlet
Letter.
Doubt that the Jlarres arc Jire,
Doubt that the fiiniie doth mooue^
Doubt truth to be a Iyer,
But neucr doubt I hue,
0 deere Ophelia, I am ill at thcfe numbers y I haue not art
reckcn my groaneSy but that I hue thee bejly oh moji beji beleeue
it ! adew. Thine euermore nv^ dearc lady, whilft this machine
is to him. Hamlet.
Pol. This in obedience hath my daughter ihown me, •
And more about hath * his folicitings
As they fell out by time, by meanes, and place.
All giuen to mine eare.
King, But how hath (he receiu’d his lone ?
Pol. What doe you thinke of me ?
King. As of a man faithfull and honorable.
Pol. I would faine proue fo, but what might you thinke
When I had feene this hot loue on the wing ?
As I perceiu'd it (I muft tell you that)
Before my daughter told me, what might you, .
Or my deare maiefly your queene heere thinke,
Jf I had plaid the delke, or table bookc,
Or giuen my heart a working mute and dumbe,
Or lookt vppon this loue with idle fight.
What might you thinke ? no, I went round to worke.
And my yong miftrelfe this f I did befpeake.
Lord Hamlet is a prince out of thy Jlarre :j: •
This muft not bee : and then I preferipts § gaue her
That ftie ftiould locke her felfe from his || refort,
• haue, thus. J fpbere, § precepts, (j her.
Admit
Prince of Denmarke.
Admit no mefTengers, receiue no tokens.
Which done jQie tooke the fruites of my aduife.
And hee repel’d. A (hort tale to make,
Fell into a fadnes, then into a faft.
Thence to a watch, thence into a weakenefTe,
Thence to § lightnes, and by this declenfion.
Into the madnes wherein now he raues,
And all wee mourne for.
King. Doe you thinke this f ?
^ee. It may bee very like J.
Pol. Hath there beenefuch a time, I would faine know thal.
That I haue pofitiuely faid, tis fo,
When it prou’d other wife ?
King. Not that I know.
Pol. Take this, from this, if this be otherwife ;
If circum fiances leade mee, I will find
Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeede
Within the center.
King. How may wee try it farther ?
PoL You know fometimes hee walkes foure houres together
Heere in the lobby.
^lee. Soe he does indeede.
Pol. At fuch a time ; lie loofe my daughter to him;
Be you and I behind an || arras then,
Marke the encounter, if he loue her not.
And bee not from his reafon falne thereon
Let me be no affiflant for a flate
But keepe a farme and carters.
King. Wee will trye it.
Enter Hamlet.
^tee. But looke where fadly the poore wretch comes reading^
Pol. Away, I doe befeech you both away.
Exit King a7id Quee.
a. f thii, J likety,. [J th.
He
The Tragedy of Hamlet
He bord him prcfcntly, oh giue me leauc,
How does my good lord Hamlet ?
Ham. Well, God a mercy.
Pol. Doe you know me my lord ?
Ham. Excellent well, you are a fiflimonger.
Pol. Not I my lord.
Ham. Then I would you were fo honefl: a man.
Pol. Honeft my lord.
Ham. I fir to be honeft as this world goes,
Is to be one man pickt out of tenne thoufand.
Pol. That’s very true my lord.
Ham. For if the funne breed maggots in a dead dogge, be-
ing a good kilTing carrion. Haue you a daughter ?
Pol. I haue my lord.
Ham. Let her not waike i’th funne, conception is a blcfing.
But as your daughter may conceaue, friend looke to’t.
Pol. How fay you by that, flill harping on my daughter,
yet he knew me not at firff, a fayd I was a fiflimonger, a is
farregone, and truely in my youth, I fufFred much extremity
.fpr lone, very neere this. He fpeake to him againe. What
doe you read my lord.
Ham. Words, words, words.
Pol. What is the matter my lord.
Ham. Betweene who.
Pol. I meane the matter that you read my lord.
Ham. Slanders fir ; for the fatericall rogue faies here, that
old men haue gray beards, that their faces are wrinckled, their
eyes purging thick amber, and plum-tree gum, and that they
haue a plentiful! lacke of wit, together with mofi: weake
hams, all which fir though I mofi powerfully and potently
belieue, yet I hold it not honefiy to haue it thus fet downe, for
your felfe fir fhall grow old as I am ; if like a crab you could
goe backeward.
Pol.
Prince of Denmarke.
Pol, Though this be madne/Te, yet there is method in’t, wU
you walke out of the ayre my lord.
Bam, Into my graue.
Pol, Indeede that’s out of the ayre ; how pregnant fome-
times his replies are, a happines that often madnes hits on,
which reafon and fan^lity could not fo profperoufly be deliuer-
ed of. I will leaue him and my daughter. My lord, I will
take my leaue of you.
Ham. You cannot take from me any thing that I will not
more willingly part withall : except my life, except my life,
except my life.
Enter Guilderllerne, and Rofoncraus.
Polo. Fare you well my lord.
Ham, Thefe tedious old fooles.
Polo, You goe to feeke the lord Hamlet, there he is.
Rof, God faue you hr.
Guy I, My honor’d lord.
Rof, My mod: deere lord.
Ham. My exelent § good friends, how dod: thou Cidlder*
fterne ?
A Rofencraus, good lads how doe you both ?
Rof. As the indifferent children of the earth.
Guyl. Happy, in that we are not euer happy on fortunes
lap f.
We are not the very button.
Ham. Nor the foies of her fhooe.
- Rof. Neither my lord.
Ham. Then you liue about her wad, or in the middle of
her fauors.
Cuyl, Faith her priuates we.
§ enent, -f cap,.
Ha]
VoL. IV.
P
The Tragedy of Hamlet
#
Hd, In the fecret parts of fortune, oh mofl true, fhe is a
fir urn pet.
What nevves ? ,
Rof. None my lord, but the worlds growne honefl.
Harn. Then is doomes day necre, but your newes is not
true ;
But in the beaten way of friendfhip, what make you at Elfonoure P
Rof. To vifit you my lord, no other occafion.
Ham. Begger that 1 am, I am euer poore in thankes, but I
thank you, and fure deare friends, my thankes are too deare a
halfpeny : were you not fent for ? is it your owne inclining ?
is it a free vifi ration ? come, come, deale iuflly with me, come,
come, nay fpeake.
Otiy. What fhould we fay my lord ?
Ham. Any thing but to’th purpofe ; you were fent for, and
there is a kind of confeflion in your lookes, which your mo-
deflyes haue not craft enough to cullour, I know the good king
and queene haue fent for you.
Rof. T o what end my lord ?
Ham. That you mull teach me : but let me coniure you, by
the rights of our fellowlhippe, by the confonancy of our youth,
by the obligation of our euer preferued loue ; and by what
more deare a better propofer can charge § you withall, bee euen
and direct with mee whether you were fent for or no.
Rof. What fay you ?
Ham. Nay then I haue an eye of you, if you loue me hold
not off.
CuyL My lord wee were fent for.
Ham. I will tell you why fo fliall my anticipation preuent
your difeouery, and your fecrecie to the king and queene moult
no feather, I haue of late, but wherefore I know not, lofl all
my mirth, forgon all cuflome of exercifes, and indeede it goes
■fo heauily with my difpofition, that this goodly frame the
<§ dange.
earth.
Prince of Denmarke.
earth, feemes to mee a Ilerill promontoj ie, this mofl: excellent
canopie the ayre, looke you, this braue ore-hanged § firmament,
this maiefticall roofe fretted with golden fire, why it appearth
nothing to me but a foulc and peftilent congregation of va-
pours. What f peece of worke is a man, how nob^e in reafon,
how infinit in faculties, in forme and moouing, how exprefie
and admirable in aflion, how like an angell in apprehenfion
how like a god : the beauty of the world ; the parragon of
annimales, and yet to mee, what is this quintefience of dufi: ?
•man delights not mee nor woman neither, though by your
fmiling you feeme to fay fo.
Rof, My lord there was no fuch finfre in my thoughts.
. Ham, Why did yee laugh then, when I faid man delights,
not me. •
Rof. To thinke my lord if you delight not in man, what
lenton entertainement the players fiiai receiue from you, wee
coted f them on the way, and hether are the || coming to offer
you feruice.
Ham, He that playes the king fhal be welcome, his ma-
iefiy fhal haue tribute on mee, the aduenterous knight flial vfe
his foyle and target, the louer fhal not fing §§ gratis, the hu-
morous man fhal end his part in peace and the lady fhal fay
her mind freely : or the blanke verfc fhal hault for’t. What
players are they ?
Rof, Euen thofe you were wont to take fuch delight in, the
tragedians of the citty.
, Ham, How chances it the ff trauaile ? their refideace both
in reputation and profit was better both wayes.
Rof I thinke their inhibition, comes by the meanes of the
late innouation.
Ham. Do the hold the fame efiimation they did when i
was in the city ? are they fo followed ?
\ci»ted. . ft
§ ire-hanging. f
The Tragedy of Hamlet
Rof. No indeede are they not.
Ham. It is not very flrange, for my vncle is king of Den-
marke and thofe that would make mouths at him while my
father liued, giue twenty, forty, fifty, a hundred duckets a
peece, for his picture in little : s’bloud there .is fomething in
this more then naturall, if philofophy could find it out.
A jlorijh.
Guyl. There are the players.
Ham. Gentlemen you are welcome to Elfonoure^ your hands,
come then th apportenance of welcome is fafhion and ceremo-
nie ; let mee comply with you in this garb : let my extent to
the players, which I tell you muff fhowe fayrely outwards,
fliould more appeare like entertainement then yours ? you are
welcome : but my vncle father, and aunt-mother, are de-
ceaued.
Guyl, In what my deare lord.
Ham. I am but mad north north well ; when the wind is
foutherly, I know a hauke from a hand-faw. -
Enter Polonius. . • - r
Pol. Well be with you gentlemen.-
Ham. Hark you Guyldenjlerney and you to, are § each eare
a hearer, that great baby as f you fee is not yet oiit of his
fwadling clouts.
Rof. Happily he is the fecond time come to them, for they
fay an old man is twice a child.
Ham. I w'ill prophecy that he comes to tell me of the
players ; marke it, you fay right fir a Monday morning t’was
then indeed. v
Pol. My lord I haue newes to tell you.
Ham. My lord I haue newes to tell you : when RoJJtus w'as
an a6l:or in Rome.
Pol. The affors are come hether my lord.
§ at. -J- at emitted. J that omitted.
Ham.
Prince of Denmarke.
Ham. Buz, buz.
Pol. Vppon my honor.
Ham. Then came each a<5tor on his affe.
Pol. The beft aftors in world, either for tragedy, comed^^
hi/fory, padorall, paftorall-comicail, hiAorical-pad:ora]l,y^^7w^ *■
indeuidable, or poem vnlimited. Seneca cannot bee too
heauy, nor Plautus too light for the lawe of writ, and the li-
berty : thefe are the onely men.
Ham. O leptha iudgeof Ifraell, what a treafure hadft thou ?
Pol, What a treafure had he my lord ?
Ham. Why one faire daughter and no more, the which hee
loLied paffing well.
Pol. Still on my daughter.
Ham. Am I not i’th right old leptha f ?
Pol. What followes then my lord ?
Ham. Why as by lot God wot, and then you know it came
to pafTe, as moft like it was ; the firH rowe of the pious J
chanfon will fhow you more, for looke where my abridgment
comes.
Enter the players. ^
Ham. You are welcome maifters, welcome all, I am glad
to fee thee well, welcome good friends, oh old friend, why
thy face is valanc’d fince I faw theelaft, corn’ll thou to beard
me in Demark F what my young lady and miflris, by § lady
your ladilhippe is nerer to heauen, then when 1 faw you lafl
by the altitude of a chopine, pray God your voyce like a peece
of vncurrant gold, bee not crackt within the ring : maillers
you are all welcome, weele ento’t like friendly faukners. Hie
at any thing we fee, weele haue a fpeech Hraite, come giue
vs a tafte of your quality, come a pallionate fpeech.
* fcene,
■f Here the two following fpeeches arc omitted which are found in the fifft copy,
Pol. If you call me leptha my lord, 1 baue a daughter that I hue faffing well.
Ham. Nay that followes not.
X pans, § my,
P3
Player,
The Tragedy of Hamlet'
Playtr, Wha^ fpccch my pood lord ?
Ham. I heard thee fpcake me a fpeech once, but It was nc-
ucr or if it was, not ah jue once, for the play I remem'
ber pleafd not the million, t’was caniary to the general, but it
Wi? as I receiued it and others, whole iudgments in fuch mat-
ters cried in the top of mine, nn excellent play, well dieefted
in the fccncs, fet downe with as much modefly as cunning.
I remember one fayd there were no fallets in the lines, to make
the matter fauory, nor no matter in the phrafe that might in-
dite the author of afie6>ioij, but calJ it an honed method, as
wholefome as fweet, and by very much more handfome then
fine : one fpeech in’t I chiefly lou’d, t’was JEneas talke to Didoy
and there about of it efpecially when he fpeakes of Priams
(laughter, if it liue in your memory begin at this line, let me
fee, let me fee, the rugged Pyrrhus like iWIrcaiiian bead, lis
not* it begins with Pyrrhus. The rugged PirrhuSy hec
whofe fable ai mes,
Blacke as his purpofe did the night refemble,
When hee lay couched in th’ ominous horfe, •
Hath now this dread and black comple<dion fmeard.
With heraldy more difmall head to foote,
Now is hee torall gules, horridly trickt
With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, fonnes.
Bak’d and eml '^fled f with the parching dreetes
Thau lend a tirranous and a damned light
To their lords murther, roded in wrath and fire,
And thus ore-rifed with coagulate gore.
With eyes like carbunckles, the heliiili Pyrrhus
Old grar.dfire Priaru feekes ; fo proceed you.
PoL Foregod my lord well fpoken, with good accent and
good difcreiion.
Pfny. Anon he finis him
Striking too diort at GrcckeSy his anticke fword
* not fo, cmfajitd.
Rebellious
Prince of Denmarke.
Rebellious to his arme, lies where it fals.
Repugnant to command ; vnequall match t,
Pirrhus at Priam driues, in rage flrikes wide.
But with the whiffe and wind of his fell fword,
Th’ vnnerued father falls :
Seeming to feele this blow, with flaming top
Stoopes to his bafe ; and with a hiddious crafh
Takes prifoner Pirrhus eare, for lo his fword
Which was declining on the milkle head
Of reuerent Priam, feem’d i’th ayre to flick.
So as a painted tirant Pirrhus flood
Like a newtrall to his will and matter.
Did nothing :
But as wee often fee againfl; fome florme,
A filence in the heauens, the racke fland flill,
The bould winds fpeechleflTe, and the orbe belowc
As hufli as death, anone the dreadfull thunder
Doth rend the region, fo after Pirrhus paufe,
A rowfed vengeance fets him new a worke.
And neuer did the Cyclops hammers fall.
On Marfes * armor forg’d for proofe eterne.
With lefle remorfe then Pirrhus bleeding fword
Now falls on Priam,
Out, out thou flrumpet fortune ! all you gods, ,
In generall fmod take away her power,
Breake all the fpokes, and/o//^j -f from her wheele.
And boule the round naue downe the hill of heauen
As lowe as to the fiends.
Polo, This is too long.
Ha. It fhal to the barbers with your beard ; prethee fay on,
he’s for a iig, or a tale of bawdry, or he fleepes, fay on, come
to Hecuba.
Play, But who, a i woe, had feene the mobled queen.
* Mars bis. '}■ felloes, follies, felhiues. J ah,
P 4 iidni*
The Tragedy of Hamlet
Ham. The mobled queene.
'Polo. That’s good.
Play. Runne barefoote vp and downe, threatning the flames
With bilon rhume, a tlout vpon that head
Where iate the diadem flood, and for a robe.
About her lanck and all ore-teamed loynes,
A blancket in the alarme of feare caught vp.
Who this had feene, with tongue in venom fleept,
Gainll fortunes Rate would treafon haue pronounc’d ;
But if the gods themlelues did fee her then.
When fhe faw Pirhus make malicious fport
In mincing with his fword her hufbands limmcs,
The inflant burfl of clamor that fhe made,
Vnleffe things mortall mooue them not at all.
Would haue made milch the burning eyes of heauen
And paflion in the gods.
Pol. Looke where he has not turned his collour, and has
teares in’s eyes prethee no more.
Ham. Tis well, He haue thee fpeake out the refl of this foone,
good my lord will you fee the players well bellowed ; doe you
heare, let them be well vfed, for they are the abflra<R: and
breefe chronicles of the time ; after your death you were
better haue a bad epitaph then their ill report while you liue.
Pol. My lord, I will vfe them according to their defert.
Ham. Gods bodkin man, much better, vfe euery man after
his defert, and who fhall fcape whipping, vfe them after your
owne honour and dignity, the lefTe 'they deferue the more
merrit is in your bounty. Take them in.
Pol. Come firs.
Ha. Follow him friends, weele here a play to morrow ; doR
thou heare me old friend, can you play the murther of Con-
zapo F
Play. I my lord.
Prince of Denmarke^
Ham. Weele hauH * to morrow night, you could for need
ftudy a fpeech of fome dofen lines, or fixteene lines, which I
would fet downe and infert in’t : could you noti-i
Play. I my lord.
Ham. Very well, follow that lord, and looke you mocke
him not. My good friends. He leaue you till night, you are
welcome to Elfonoure.
Exeunt Pol. and players.
Bof. Good my lord. Exit f.
Ham. I fo, God buy to you, now I am alone,
O what a rogue and pefant flaue am 1 1
Is it not monftrous that this player heere
But in a fixion, in a dreame of paffion
Could force his foule fo to his owne conceit
That from her working all the vifage wand,
Teares in his eyes, diflradfion in his afpect,
A broken voyce, and his whole function futing
With formes to his conceit ; and all for nothing,
For Hecuba.
What’s Hecuba to him, or he to her.
That he ftiould weepe for her ? what would he doe <
Had he the motiue, and that for paffion
That I haue ? he would drowne the flage with teares.
And cleaue the generail eare with horrid fpeech.
Make mad the guilty and appeale J the free, .
Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed.
The very faculties of eyes and eares ; yet I,
A dull and muddy mettled rafkall peake,
Like lohn-a-dreameSi vnpregnant of my caufe.
And can fay nothing ; no not for a king,
Vpon whofe property and moil deare life,
A damn’d defeate was made : am I a coward.
Who calls me villaine, breakes my pate a croffie,
* bate, -J- Exeunt. J a f pale.
Pluckcs
The Tragedy op Hamlet
Pluckcs off my beard, and blowes it in my face,
Twekes me by the nofe, giues me the lie i’th throate
As deepc as to the lunges : who docs me this,
J-Iah ! s’woundsi fliould take it : for it cannot be
But I am pldgion liuerd, and lacke gall
To make oppreflion bitter, or ere this
I fhould haue * fatted all the region kytes
With this flaues offall, bloody, baudy villaine,
Remorfelefle, treacherous, letcherous, kindlefle villaine.
Why what an affe am I ? this is moft braue.
That I the fonne of a deere father f murthered.
Prompted to my reuenge by hcauen and hell,
Muft like a whore vnpack my heart with words.
And fall a cuiTing like a very drabbe ; a ftallion, fie vppont, foh.
About my braines hum, I haue heard,
That guilty creatures fitting at a play,
Haue by the very cunning of the feene,
Beene Brooke fo to the foule, that prefently
They haue proclaim’d their malefa(5tions :
For murther though it haue no tongue will fpeiikc
With mod miraculous organ. He haue thefe pla3^ers
Play fomthiog like the murther of my father
Before mine vncle, He obferue his lookes.
He tent him to the quicke, if a do blench
I know my courfe. The fpirit that I haue feene
May be a diuell §, and the diuell § hath power
T’affume a pleafing fhape ; yea and perhaps.
Out of ray weakeneflTe and my melancholly.
As hee is very potent with fuch fpirits,
Abufes mee to damne mce ; He haue grounds
More relatiue then this, the play’s the thing
Wherein He catch the confcience of the kingi Exit,
* a, -j- father omitted. | braueu \ dcaUi
Enter
Prince of Denmarke.'
Enter King, Queene, Polonius, Ophelia, Rofencraus, Guyl-
denfterne, lords.
King. And can you by no drift of conference
Get from him why hee puts on this confulion.
Grating fo harfhly all his dayes of quiet
With turbulent and dangerous lunacie ?
Rof He dooes confeiTe he feeles himfelfe dlflrafted,
But from what caufe a will by no meanes fpeake.
GityL Nor do wee find him forw^ard to be founded.
But with a crafty madnes keepes aloofe
When we would bring him on to fome confelTion.
Of his true hate.
^lee. Did he receiue you well ?
Rof. Mold like a gentleman.
Guyl. But with much forcing of his difpofition.
Rof. Niggard of queflion, but of our demands
Moft free in his reply.
^lee. Did you aflay him to any paftime ?
Rof Maddam, it fo fell out that certaine players
We ore-raught on the way, of thefe we told him.
And there did feeme in him a kind of ioy
To heare of it : they are heere about the court.
And as I thinke, they haue already order
This night to play before him.
Pol, Ids molt true.
And he befeecht me to intreat your maleftles
To heare and fee the matter.
King, With all my heart.
And it doth much content me
To heare him fo inclin’d.
Good gentlemen glue him a father edge,
And driue his purpofe into thefe delights.
Rof We fhall my lord.
Exeunt Rof. and Guyl.
King,
The Tragedy of Hamlet
Kin. Sweet Gertrardy leaue vs two.
For wc haue clofely fent for Hamlet hether.
That he as t’were by accident, may heere
y^fFront Ophelia ; her father and my felfe,
Wee’le fo beAow our felues, that feeing vnfecne.
We may of their encounter franckely iudge.
And gather by him as he is behau’d,
Ift be th’ afBi<n:ion of his loue or no
That thus he fufFers for.
^tee. rfhall obey you.
And for my part Ophelia, I doe wifh
That your good beauties be the happy caufe
Of Hamlets wildnes, fo (hall I hope your vertues
Will bring him to his wonted way againe.
To both your honours.
Ophe, Maddam, I wifh it may.
PoL Ophelia walke you heere : gracious fo pleafe you.
We will bellow our felues ; reade on this booke,
That fhow of fuch an exercife may collour
Your lowlinelFe ; we are oft too blame in this,
Tis too much proou’d, that with deuotions vifage
And pious action, we doe fugar ore
The diuell himfelfe.
King. O tis too true.
How fmart a lalh that fpeech doth giue my confcience ?
The harlots cheeke beautied with plaflring art.
Is not more ougly to the thing that helps it,
Then is my deede to my molt painted word :
O heauy burthen.
Enter Hamlet.
Pol. I heare him comming, with-draw my lord.
Ham. To be, or not to be, that is the queftion.
Whether tis notler in the minde to fufFer
Prince of Denmarke.
The flings and arrowes of outraglous fortune,
Or to take armes againft a fea of troubles.
And by oppofing, end them : to die to fleepe
No more : and by a fleepe, to fay we end
The hart-ake, and the thoufand naturall fhocks
That flefli isheire to; tis a confumation
Deuoiitly to be wifht to die to fleepe.
To fleepe, perchance to dreame, I there’s the rub, ' ' .
For in that fleepe of death what dreames may come ? -
When we haue fhuffled off this mortall coyle ' -
Mufl: giue vs paufe, there’s the rcfpedf
That makes calamity of fo longlife: v
For who would beare the whips and fcornes of time,'
Th’oppreflbrs wrong, the proude man’s contumely, •
The pangs of office, and^ the lawes delay,
The infolence of office, and the fpurnes
That patient merrit of th’vnworthy takes, ■ : . / .
When himfelfe might his quietas f make ' h "
With a bare bodkin ; who would fardels' beare;
To grunt and fweat vnder a weary life ? ! . v
But that the dread of fomething after death.
The vndifcouer’d country, from whofe borne
No trauailer returnes, puzzels the will,
And makes vs rather beare thofe ills we. haue.
Then flie to others that wee know not of.
Thus confcience dooes make cowards.
And thus the natiue hiew of refolution
Is fickled ore with the pale call: of thought.
And enter prifes of great pitch and moment.
With this regard their currents turne awry,
And loofe the name of action. Soft you now,
The faire Ophelia, nimph in thy orizons
Be all my flnnes remembred.
* defftfei lout, + quietus.
The Tragedy of Hamlet
Ophe. Good my lord,
How dooes your honour for this many a day ?
Ham. I humbly .thanke you ; well.
Ophe. My lord, I haue remembrances of yours
That I haue longed long to re-deliuer,
I pray you now receiiie them.
Ham. No, not 1, I ncuer gaue you ought.
Ophe. My honor’d lord, you know right well you did.
And with them words of fo fweet breath compofd
As made thefe things more rich : their perfume loft,
Take thefe againe, for to the noble mind
Rich gifts wax poore when giuers prooue vnkind.
There my lord.
Ham. Ha, ha, are you honeft.
Oph. My lord.
Ham. Are you faire ?
Ophe. What meanes your lordfhip ?
Ham. That if you be honeft and faire, you Ihould admit
po difconrfe to your beauty.
Ophe. Could beauty my lord haue better comerce
Then with honefty ?
Ham. I truely, for the power of beauty wll fooner tranf-
forme honefty from what it is to a baude, then the force of ho-
nefty can tranflate beauty into * his likenefle, this was fome-
tlme a paradox, but now the time giues it proofe, I did loue
you once. •
Oph. Indeed my lord you made me beleeue fo.
Ham. You fliould not haue beleea’d me, for vertue cannot
fo euacuat f our old Hock, but we ftiail rdifti of it ; I loued
you not.
Ophe, I was the more deceiued.
Ham. Get thee a nunry : why would’ft thou be a breeder
of finuers ? I am myfelte indifterent honeft, but yet I could
•f evicutat.
accufe
Prince of Denmarke,
accufe mee of fuch things, that it were better my mother had
not borne mee : I am very proude, reuengefull, ambitious, with
more offences at my becke, then I haue thoughts to put them
in, imaginatio to giue them fhape, or time to aft them in :
what fhould fuch fellowes as I do crauling betweene earth and
heauen ? we are arrant knaues, beleeue none of vs. Go thy
waies to a nunry. Wher’s your father.
Ophe. At home my lord.
Ham. Let the doers be fhut vpon him,
That he may play the foole no where but in’s owne houfe.
Farewell.
Ophe. O helpe him you fweet heauens. ,
Ham. If thou dooft marry. He giue thee this plage * for thy
dowrie, be thou as chart as yce, as pure as fnow, thou fhalt
not efcape calumny get thee to a nunry, farewell. Or if thou
wilt needs marry, marry a foole, for wife men know well
enough what monflcrs you make of them : to a nunry goe, and
quickly to, farwell.
Ophe. Heauenly powers rertore him.
Ham. I haue heard of your paintings well enough, God
hath giuen you one face, and you make your felfes another,
you gig and amble, and you lirt you nickname Gods creaturs,
and make your wantonnes ignorance; goe to. He no more on’t,
it hath made me madde, I fay we will haue no mo marriage,
thofe that are married already, all but one fhal liue, the reft
fhall keepe as they are : to a nunry go. Exit.
Ophe, O what a noble mind is heere othrowne !
The courtiers, fouldiers, fchollers, eye, tongue, fword,
Th* expeffation, and rofe of ;he faire rtate.
The glaffe of fafliion, and the mould of forme,
Th’ obferu’d of all obferuers, quite, quite downe.
And I of ladies moft deiefl and wretched.
That fuckt the huny of his mufickt f vowcs ;
* plague, ;J; mufitk.
Now
, The Tragedy of Hamlet
Now fee what noble and mofl foueraigne reafon
Like fweete bells iangled out of time, and harfh,
That vnmatcht * forme, and ftature of blowne youth
Blafled with extacy. O wo is me
T’haue feene what I haue feene, fee what I fee.
Enter King and Polonlus.
King. Loue : his afFc^fions doe not that way tend,
Nor what he fpake, though it lackt forme a little.
Was not like madnes ; there’s fomething in his foule
Ore which his melancholy fits on brood,
And I doe doubt, the hatch and the difclofe
Will be fome danger ; which for to preuent,
I haue in quick determination
• Thus fit t downe : he fhall with fpeed to England,
For the demaund of our negle6fed tribute.
Haply the feas, and countries different.
With variable obieffs, fliall expell
This fomething fetled matter in his -hart.
Whereon his braines flill beating
Puts him thus from fafhion of himfelfe.
What tinke you on’t ?
Pot. It (hall doe well.
But yet doe I beleeue the origen and comencement of it f
Sprung from neglefled loue : how now Ophelia ?
You neede not tell vs what lord Hamlet faid.
We heard it all : my lord, doe as you pleafe.
But if you hold it fit, after the play.
Let his queene-mother all alone intreate him.
To fhow his griefe, let her be round with him.
And He be plac’d (fo pleafe you) in the eare
Of all their conference : if (he find him not.
unm arch'd. f Ja it, % his griefe.
To
Prince of Denmarke^
To England fend him t or confine him where
Your wifedome befl fhall thinke.
King. It fhall be fo,
Madnes in great ones mufl: not vnmatcht goe. Exeunt,
Enter Hamlet and three of the players.
Ham. Speake thefpeechl pray you as I pronoun’d it to you,
trippingly on the tongue, but if you mouth it as many of our
players do, I had as Hue the towne cryer fpoke my lines, nor
doe not faw the aire too much with your 'hand thus, but vfe
all gently, for in the very torrent tempefl, and as I may fay
whirlwind of your paflion, you muff acquire and beget a tem-
perance, that may glue it fmoothneffe, O it offends me to the
foule, to heare a robuffious perwig-patd fellowe tere a paflion
to totters, to very rags, to fpleet the earcs of the groundlings,
who for the moff part are capable of nothing but inexplicable
dumbe fhewes, and noyfe : I would haue fuch a fellow whipc
for ore-dooing Termagant^ it out Herods Herod, pray you
auoyde it.
Play. I warrant your honour.
Ham. Be not too tame neither, but let your owne difcretion
bee your tutor, fute the aftion to the word, the word to the
aflion, with this fpeciall obferuance, that you ore-fleppe not
the modefty of nature : for any thing fo ore-doone, is from
the purpofe of playing, whofe end both at the firfl, and novv%
was and is, to hold as tvvere the mirrour vp to nature, to fliew’
vertue her feature ; fcorne her own image, and the very age
and body of the time his forme and prefTure : now this ouer-
done, or come trady f off, though it makes the vnfkilfuli
laugh, cannot but make the iudidous greeue, the cenfure of
which one, muff in your allowance ore-weigh a whole theater
of others. O there bee players that I haue feene play, and
, t
CL
VOL. IV.
h$ard
The Tragedy of Hamlet
heard others prayfd, and that highly, not to fpeake it pro
phancly, that neither haulng th’ accent of Chriflians, nor the
gate of Chriftian, Pngmiy nor man, haue fo Arutted and bel-
lowed, that I hauc thought fome of natures ionrnemen had
made men, and not made them well, they imitated humanity
fo abominably.
Play. I hope we haue reform’d that indifferently with vs.
Ha. O reforme it altogether, and let thofe that play your
clownes fpeake no more then is fet downe for them, for there
be of them that will themfelues laugh, to fet on fome quantity
of barraine fpecflators to laugh to, though in the meane time>
fome neceffary queAion of the play be then to be confidered :
that’s villanous, and fhewes a moff pittifull ambition in the
foole that vfes it ; goe make you ready. How now my lord,
will the king heare this pcece of worke ?
Enter Polonius, GuyldenAerne, and Rofencraus.
Pol. And the queene to, and that prefently.
Ham. Bid the plaiers make haft. Wil you two help to^
haften them.
Rof. I my lord. Exeunt thoje two.
Ham. What how, Horatio.
Enter Horatio.
Horn. Heere fweete lord, at your ferulce.
Ham. Horatioy thou art een as iuft a man
As ere my conuerfation copt withall.
Hora. O my deere lord.
Ham. Nay, do not thinke I flatter.
For what aduancement may I hope from thee
That no reuenew haft but thy good fplrits
To feede and cloathe thee, why Ihould the poore be flattred ?
No, let the candied tongue lick obfurd pompe,
And crooke the pregnant hinges of the knee
Where thrift may follow fauning, dooft thou hearc.
Since
Prince of Denmarke.
Since my deere foule was miftris of her choyce,
And could of men dilHnguifh her eledlion
S’hath feald thee for her felfe, for thou haft beene
As one in fufFering all that fufFers nothing,
A man that fortunes buffets and rewards
Hafl: tane with equall thankes ; and bleff are thofe
Whofe bloud and iudgement are fo well comedled, ’ '
That they are not a pipe for fortunes finger
To found what ftoppe fiiee pleafe : giue me that maa
That is not paflions flaue, and I will weare him
In my hearts core, I in my heart of heart
As I do thee. Something too much of this,
There is a play to night before the king.
One fcene of it comes neere the circumfiance
Which I haue told thee of my fathers death,
I prethee when thou feefi: that a£i: a foote,
Euen with the very comment of thy foule
Obferue my vncle, if his occulted guilt
Doe not itfelfe vnkennill in one fpeech,
It is a damned ghofi: that wee haue feene.
And my imaginations are as foule
As Vulcuns filthy j giue him heedfull note
For I mine eyes will riueT to his face.
And after w^ee will both our iudgements ioyne
In cenfure of his feeming.
Hora. Well my lord,
If a fieale ought the whiifi this play is playing
And fcape deteiled, I will pay the theft.
Enter trumpets and kettle drimmes. King, Queene, Polonlus^
Ophelia.
Ham. They are comming to the play. I mufi be idle.
Get you a place.
King. How fares our coufin Hamlet ?
‘ HarUy
The Tragedy of Hamlet
Ham. Excellent yfaith.
Of the camelions difh, I eate the ayre,
Promif-cram’d, you cannot feede capons fo.
King. I haue nothing with this aunfwer HamJef,
Thefe words are not mine.
Ham. No, nor mine now my lord.
You playd once i’th vniuerfity you fay,
Pol. That did I my lord, and was accounted a good aflor.
Ham. What did you enacfl ?
Pol. I did enaft luliiis Cafar, I was kild i’th capital!,
Brutus kild me.
Ham. It was a brute part of him to kill fo capitall a calf
there.
Be the players ready ?
Rof.' I my lord, they Ilay vpon your patience.
Ccr, Come hether my deare Hamlet, fit by me.
Ham. No good mother heere’s mettle more attra(fllue.
Pol. O, oh *, doe you marke that.
Ham. Lady fhall I lie in your lap ?
Ophe. No my lord.
Ham. Doe you thinke I meant country matters ?
Ophe. I thinke nothing my lord.
Ham That’s a faire thought to lye betweene maydes legs.
Ophe. YVhat is my lord ?
Ham. Nothing.
Ophe. You are merry my lord.
Ham. Who I ?
Oph. I my lord.
Ham. O God ! your onely iigge-maker, what fhould a man
do but be merry, for looke you how cheerfully my mother
lookes, and my father died within’s two howres.
Ophe. Nay, tis twice two months my lord. ^
Ham. So long, nay then let the diuell w’eare blacke, for He
haue a fute of fables ; O heauens, die two months ago, and
Prince of DENMARKEr
not forgotten yet, then there’s hope a great mans memory may
out-liue his life halfe a yeare, but ber lady a muft build
churches then, or elfe fhall a fuffer not thinking on, with the
hobby- horfe, whofe epitaph is, for O, for O, the hobby-
horfe is forgot.
The trumpets found, Dumbe Jhow foUowes.
Enter a king and a queene, the queene embracing him, and he
her, he takes her vp, and declines his head vppon her necke,
he lies him downe vppon a bancke of fo'ivers, Jhe feeing him
a feepe, Icaues him : anon comes in an other man, takes off
his croivne, kiffes it, pours poyfon in the feepers eai'es, and
leaues him : the queene retiirnes, finds the king dead, makes '
paffionate aUion, the poy finer 'with fome three or four e comes
in againe, feeme to condole 'with her, the dead body is carried
a'way, the poifiner 'woes the queene 'with gifts, Jhe feemes
harfio awile, but in the end accepts loue,
Oph, What meanes this my lord ?
Ham. Marry, tis munching Mallico, it meanes mifehiefe.
Oph. Belike this fhow imports the argument of the play.
Enter Prologue.
Ham. We fhall know by this fellow.
The players cannot keepe they’le tell all.
Ophe. Will a tell us what this Ihow meant ?
Ham. I or any fhow that ybu will (how him, be not you
afham’d to fhow heele not fhame to tell you what it meanes.
Oph. You are naught, you are naught. He marke the play.
Prologue. For vs and for our tragedie,
Heere {looping to your clemehcie.
We begge your hearing patiently.
Ham* Is this a prologue or the pofie of a ring ?
The Tragedy of Hamlet ‘
Cphe. Tis breeFe my lord.
Ilanu As womans loue,
Enter King and Queene.
King, Full thirty times hath Phoebus cart gone round
Neptunes fait wafli, and Tcllus orb’d the ground.
And thirty dofen moones with borrowed fheene
About the world haue times twelue thirties beene.
Since loue our hearts, and Hymen did our hands
Vnite comutuall in moft facred bands.
^lee. So many iourneyes may the funne and moone
Make vs againe count ore ere loue bee doone,
But woe is me you are fo iicke of late.
So farre from cheere, and from your * former flate,
That I diflruft you, yet though I diftruli-,
Difeomfort you my lord it nothing muft.
For women feare too much, euen as they loue,
And womens feare and loue hold quantity,
Either none, in neither ought, or in extremity,
Now^what my lord is proofe hath made you know.
And as my loue is ciz’ft, my feare is fo.
Where loue is great, thelitled: doubts are feare.
Where little feares grow great, great loue growes there.
Kmg. Faith I muft leaue thee loue, and Ihortly to.
My operant powers their fuinTions leaue to do.
And thou (halt liuc in this fare world behind,
Honord, belou’d, and haply one as kind.
For hulband ftialt thou.
^lee. O confound the refl:.
Such lone muft needes be treafon in my brefl.
In fecond huiband let me be accurfi.
None wed the fecond, but who kild the firfl.
Ham, That’s wormwood.
* 6ur.
The
Prince of DenmarkeJ
The inflances that fecond marriage moue
Are bafe refpe^ls of thrift, but none of loue,
A fecond time I kill my hufband dead.
When fecond hulband kilTes me in bed.
King. I doe beleeiie you thinke what now you fpeake^
But what we doe determine, oft we breake,
Purpofe is but the flaue to memory.
Of violent birth, but poore validity.
Which now the fruite vnripe flicks on the tree.
But faJl vnfnaken when they mellow bee.
Mofl neceffary tis that we forget
To pay ourfelues what to ourfelues is debt.
What to ourfelues in paflion we propofe,
The pafTion ending, doth the purpofe lofe.
The violence of either, griefe, or ioy.
Their owne ennaflures with themfelues deflroy.
Where ioy mofl reuels, griefe doth mofl lament,
Oreefe ioy, ioy griefes, on flender accedent.
This world is not for aye, nor tis not flrange,
That euen our loues fhould with our fortunes change,
For tis a queflion left vs yet to proue,
Whether loue lead fortune, or elfe fortune loue.
The great man downe> you marke his fauourite flies,
The poore aduanced makes friends of enemies,
And hethertoo doth loue on fortune tend.
For who not needs, fliall neuer lacke a friend,
And who in want a hollow friend doth try,
Dire<flly feafons him his enemie.
But orderly to end where I begunne,
Our willes and fates doe fo contrary runne.
That our deuices flill are ouerthrowne,
Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our owne,
So thinke thou wilt no fecond hufband wed.
But die thy thoughts when thy firfl lord is dead.
The Tragedy of Hamlet
^tcc. Nor earth to me giuc foode, nor heauen light.
Sport and repofe lock from mce day, and night.
To defperation turne my trull and hope,
And anchors chcere in prifon be my fcope.
Each oppofite that blanckes the bice of ioy,
Meete what I would haiic well, and it deftroy.
Both heere'and hence purfue me lafling llrife.
If once I bee a widdow, euer I be a wife.
II am. If Ihe lliould breake it now.
King. Tis deepely fworne, fweet leaue mee heare a while.
My fpirits grow dull and faine I would beguyle
The tedious day with fleepe.
^lee. Sleepe rock thy braine.
And neuer come milchance betwixt vs twane. Exeunt.
Ham. Maddam, how like you this play ?
^lee. The lady doth protell too much me thinkes.
Ham. O but fliec’le keepe her word.
Kmg. Haue you heard the argument ? is there no offence
in’t ?
Ham. No, no, they do but ieff, poyfon in iell, no offence
i th world.
King. What do you call the play ?
Ham. The Moufetrap, mary how tropically, this play is the
image of a murther done in Viennay Gonzago is the dukes
name, his wife Bapti/iay you lhall fee anone, tis a knauidi
peece of worke, but what of that? your maielly and we Jhall^
haue free foules, it touches vs not, let the gauled iade winch,
our withers are vnwrung. This is one LucianuSy nephew to
the king.
Enter Lucianus.
Oph. You are as^good as a chorus my lord.
Ham. I could interpret betweene you and your louc
If I could fee the puppits dallying.
Prince of Denmarke.’
Ophe, You are keene my lord, you are keene.
Ham. It would coft you a groning to take off mine edge.
Oph. Still better and worfe.
Ham. So you miftake your hulbands. Beginne murtherer,
leaue thy damnable faces and begin, come, the crok ng rauen
doth bellow for reuenge,
LuC. Thoughts black, hands apt, drugges fit and time
agreeing,
Confiderat feafon els no creature feeing,
Thou mixture rancke, of midnight weeds collected.
With Hecats ban thrice blafted, thrice infefted.
Thy naturall magicke, and dire property,
On wholefome lifevfurps immediately.
Ham. A poyfons him i’th garden for his efiate, his names
ConzagOj the Bory is extant and written in very choice Italian
you fhall fee anon how the murtherer- gets the loue of Gon~
zagoes wife.
Oph. The king rifes.
^ee. How fares my lord ?
Pol. Giue ore the play.
King, Giue me fome light, away.
Pol. Lights, lights, lights.
Exeunt y all but Ham. and Horatio.
Ham Why let the Broken deere go weepe.
The hart vngauled play,
For fome muB watch whilB fome muB Beepe,
Thus runnes the world away. Would not this fir and a for-
reB of feathers, if the reB of my fortunes turne Turke with
me, with prouinciall rofes, on my raz’d Btooes, get me a
fellowBiip in a city of players ?
Hora. Halfe a Biare.
Ham* A whole one I.
Foil
The Tragedy of Hamlet
For thou doft know oh Damon deerc
This realme dimantled was
Of loue himfelfe, and now raignes hecre
A very very paiock.
Hora. You might haue rim’d.
Ham, O good Horatio, He take the ghofls word for a thoii-
fand pound, didff pcrceaue ?
Hora. Very well my lord.
Ham, Vppon the talke of the poyfoning.
Hora, I did very well note him.
Ham, Ah ha, come fome mufique, com the recorders.
For if the king like not the comedy.
Why then belike he likes it not perdy.
Come, fome mufique.
Enter Rofencraus, Guyldenflerne.
Cuyl. Good my lord, vontfafe me a word with you.
Ham, Sir a whole hiftory.
Guy, The king fir.
Ham. I fir, what of him ?
Cuyl, Is in his retirement meruailous diflempred.
Ham. With drinke fiq?
Guyl, No my lord, with choller.
Ham. Your wifedome fhould fhew it felfe more richer to
fjgnifie this to the doctor, for, for me to put him to his pur-
gation, would perhaps plunge him into more choller.
Guyl. Good my lord put your difeourfe into fome frame,
And flare not fo wildly from my affaire.
Ham. I am tame fir, pronounce.
Giiil. The queene your mother in mofl great affliclion of
fpii'it, hath font me to you.
Hayn. You are welcome.
Guil, Nay good my lord, this curtefie is not of the right
breed,
Prince of DenmarkeJ
breed, if it fhall pleafe you to make me a wholfome aunfwer,
I will doe your mothers commaundement, if not, your pardon
and my returne, fhall be the end of bufines.
Ham, Sir I cannot.
Rof, What my lord.
Ham. Make you a wholfome anfwer, my wits difeafd, but
fir, fuch anfwere as I can make, you fhall commaund, or ra-
ther as you fay, . my mother, therefore no more, but to the
matter, my mother you fay.
Rof, Then thus ^e faies, your behauiour hath flrooke her
into amazement and admiration.
Ham. O wonderfull fonne that can fo flonifh a mother ! but
is there no fequell at the heeles of this mothers 'admiration t
impart.
Rof. She defires to fpeake with you in her clofet ere you go
to bed.
Ham. We fhall obey, were file ten times our mother, hauc
you any further trade wkh vs ?
Rof. My lord 3^0 u once did loue me.
Ham. And doe hill by thefe pickers and flealers.
Rof. Good my lord, what is your caufe of diifemper, you
do furely barre the doore vpon your owne liberty, if you deny
your griefes to your friend.
Ham. Sir I lacke adiiancement,
Rof. How can that be when you haue the voyce of the king
himfelfe for your fucceffion in Denmarkc.
Enter the players uolth recorders.
Ham. I fir, but while the graffe growes, the prouerbe Is
fomething mufty, oh the recorders, let me fee one, to with-
draw with you, why do you goe about to recouer the wind of
me, as if you would driue me into a toyle ?
The Tragedy of Hamlet
Cfuyl O my lord if my duty be too bold, my loue Is too vn-
manerly.
Ham. I do not well vnderlland that : will you play vpon*
this pipe ?
CuyL My lord I cannot.
Ham. I pray you.
Cuyl. Beleeue me I cannot.
Ham. I befeech you.
Cuyl. I know no touch of It my lord.
Ham. It is as eafie as lying ; gouerne thefe ventages with
your fingers, and the thumb* giue it breath with your mouth,
and it will difeourfe moft eloquent mufique, looke you, thefe
are the floppes.
Cuyl. But thefe cannot I commaund to an vtrance of har-
monie, I haue not the fkill.
Ham. Why looke you now how vnworthy a thing you make
of me, you would play vpon me, you would feeme to know
my ftops, you would plucke out the hart of my miflerie, you
would found mee from my lowefl note to my compafTe, and
there is much mufique excellet voice in this little organ, yet
cannot you make it fpeak, s’blood do you thinke I am eafier
to be plaid on then a pipe, call me what inflrument you wil,
though you fret me not, you cannot play vpon me. God blefle
you fir.
Enter Polonius.
Pol. My lord the queene would fpeake with you, and
prefently.
Ham. Do you fee yonder cloud that’s almofl in fhape of a
camel I
Pol. By’th maffe and tis like a camell indeede.
Ham. Me thinkes it is like a wezell.
• umber.
Pol.
Prince of Denmarke,
Pol It is black like a wezell.
Ham. Or like a whale.
Pol, Very like a whale.
Ham. Then I will come to my mother by and by.
They foole me to the top of my bent, I will come by and by,
Leaue me friends.
I will, fay fo. By and by is eafily faid,
Tis now the very witching time of night.
When churchyards yawne, and hell it felfe breakes out
Contagion to this world : now could I drinke hote blood.
And doe fuch bufinelTe as the bitter day
Would quake to looke on : foft, now to my mother,
0 hart loofe not thy nature I let not euer.
The foule of Nero enter this firm bofome !
Let me be cruell, not vnnaturall,
1 will fpeake dagger to her, but vfe none.
My tongue and foule in this be hypocrites.
How in my words fomeuer file be (bent.
To giue them feales neuer my foule confent. Exit.
Enter King, Rofencraus, and Guyldenfierne.
King. I like him not, nor Bands it fafe with vs
To let his madnefie range, therefore prepare you,
I your commifiion will forth-with difpatch.
And he to England fhall along with you.
The termes of our eftate may not endure
Hazerd fo neer’s as doth hourely grow.
Out of his browes.
Guyl. We will our felues prouide.
Mod holy and religious feare it is
To keepe thofe many many bodies fafe
That line and feed vpon your maiefty.
Rof. The fingle and peculier life is bound.
With all the Brength and armour of the mind
To
The Tragedy of Hamlet
To kecpc It felfe from noyance, but much more
That fpirit, vpon whofe weale depends and relh
The Hues of many, the cefTe of maiefly
Dies not alone ; but like a gulfe doth draw
What’s neere it, with it, or it is a mafiie wheele
Fixt on the fomnet of the highcfl mount.
To whofe Jjiigh * fpokes, tenn thoufand leflfer things
Are morteifl and adioynd, which when it falls,
Each fmall annexment, pety confequence
Attends the boyHrous raine, neuer alone
Did the king figh, but a generall growne f .
King. Arme you I pray you to this fpeedy voiage,
For we will fetters put about this feare
Which now goes too free-footed.
7?^. We will haft vs. Exeimt gent.
Enter Polonius.
Pol. My lord, he’s going to his mothers clofet.
Behind the arras I’le conuay my felfe
To here the profTefte, Tie warrant (liee’le tax him home.
And as you faid, and wifely was it fayd,
Tis meete that fome more audience then a mother.
Since nature makes them partiall, ftiould ore-heare
The fpeech of vantage ; fare you well my leige,
I’le call vpon you ere you go to bed.
And' tell you what I know. Exit.
King. Thankes deere my lord.
0 my offence is rancke, it fmels to heauen.
It hath the primall eldeft curfe vppont,
A brothers murther, pray can I not.
Though inclination be as (harp as will,
My ftronger guilt defeats my ftronge cntent X
And like a man to double bufines bound,
1 ftand in paufe where I fhall firft beginne.
* bough f huge* fgroue.
Prince of Denmark!
And both neglect : what if this curfed hand
Were thicker then it felfe with brothers blood.
Is there not raine enough in the fweete heauens
To wafh it white as fnow ? whereto ferues mercy
But to confront the vifage of offence ?
And what’s in praier but this two-fold force.
To be foreflalled ere we come to fall.
Or pardon being downe, then I’le looke vp.
My faults is paff, but oh ! what forme of prayer
Can ferue my turne ? forgiue me my foule murtherj
That cannot be fince I am ft 111 pofteft
Of thofe affecls * for which I did the murther ;
My crowne, mine owne ambition, and my queene;
May one be pardoned and retaine th’ offence ?
In the corrupted currents of this world.
Offences guided f hand may fhow by iuftice.
And oft tis feene the wicked prize it felfe
Buyes out the law, but tis not fo aboue.
There is no fhufting, there the aflion lies
In his true nature, and we our felues compeld
Euen to the teeth and forehead of our faults
To giue in euidence : what then, what refts ?
Try what repentance can, what can It not.
Yet what can it, w'hen one cannot repent ?
O wretched ftate, O bofome blacke as death,
O limed foule, that ftruggling to be free,
Art more ingaged ! helpe angles make affay.
Bow ftubborne knees, and hart with firings of fteele.
Be foft as finnewes of the new borne babe.
All may be well.
Enter Hamlet.
Ham. Now might I doe it, but now a Is a praying,
* And now He doo’t, and fo a goes to heauen,
♦ ef'eSis. -f- guildid, ^
And
The Tragedy of Hamlet
And fo am I reuendge, tliat would be fcand
A villaine kills my father, and for that,
I his foie fonne, doe this fame villaine fend
To heauen.
Why, this is bafe and filly. not reuendge,
A tooke my father grofely, full of bread,
Withall his crimes broad blowne as flufh as May,
And how his audit flands who knowes faue heauen,
But in our circumftance and courfe of thought,
Tis heauy with him : and am I then reuendged
To take him in the purging of his foule.
When he is fit and feafoned for his pafTage ?
No,
Vp fword, and know thou a more horrid hent.
When he is drunke, a fleepe, or in his rage,
Or in th’ inceftious pleafure of his bed.
At game, a fwearing, or about fome 3.^
That has no relifh of faluation in’t.
Then trip him that his heele mas kick at heauen.
And that his foule may be as damnd and blacke
As hell whereto it goes ; my mother Baies,
This phificke but prolongs thy fickly dales. ' Exit.
King. My words fly vp, my thoughts remaine below
Words without thoughts neuer to heauen goe. Exit.
Enter Gertrard and Polonius.
'Polo. A will come flrait, looke you lay home to him.
Tell him his prancks haue beene too broad to beare with.
And that your grace hath fereen’d and flood betweene
Much heate and him. He filence me euen heere.
Pray you be round.
Enter Hamlet.
Ger. He waite you, feare me not,
With-draw, I heare him coraming.
Ham.
Prince of Denmarke.^
Ham. Now mother, whats the matter ?
Ger. Hamlet, thou haft thy father much offended.
Ham. Mother you haue my father much offended.
Ger. Come, come, you anfwer with an idle tongue.
Ham. Goe goe, you queftion with a wicked tongue*
Ger. Why how now Hamlet ?
Ham. What’s the matter now ?
Ger. Haue you forgot me ?
Ham. No by the rood not fo,
You are the queene, your hufbands brothers wife.
And would it were not fo, you are my mother.
• Ger. Nay then He fet thofe to you that can fpeake.
Ham. Come, come, and fit you downe, you ftiali not boudge,
You goe not till I fet you vp aglaffe
Where you may fee the moft part of you.*
Ger. What wilt thou doe, thou wilt not murther me I
Helpe hoe.
Pol. What hoe helpe.
Ham. How now, a rat, dead for a duckat, dead.
Pol. O I am flaine.
Ger. O me, what haft thou done ?
Ham. Nay I know not, is it the king ?
Ger. O what a rafh and bloody deede is this.'
Ham. A bloody deede, almoft as bad good mother
As kill a king, and marry with his brother.
Ger. As kill a king.
Ham. I lady, it was my word.
^Thou wretched, rafh, intruding foole farewell,
I tooke thee for thy better, take thy fortune.
Thou find’ft to bee too bufie is fome danger.
Leaue wringing of your hands, peace fit you downe,
And let me wring your heart, for fo I fhall
If it be made of penetrable ftuffe,
VoL. IV. R.
If
The Tragedy of Hamlet
If damned cuftome hauc nor brafd it fo,
That it be proofe and bulwark againft fence.
Cer. What haue i done, that thou dar’ft wagge thy tongue
In noyfe fo rude againfl me ?
Ham. Such an a£l
That blurres the grace and blulh of modefly.
Calls vertue hipocrit, takes of the rofe
From the fair forhead of an innocent loue.
And fets a bliffer there, makes mariage vowes
As falfe as dicers oaihes, Oh fuch a deed
As from the body of contraction pluckes
The very foule : and fweet religion makes
A rapfody of words ; heaiiens face dooes glow
Ore this folidity and compound made
With heated vifage, as againlt the doome
Is though t-fick at the aft.
^ee. Ay me what aift ?
Ham. That roares fo low’de and thunders in fche index,
Looke here vpon this picture, and on this.
The counterfeit prefentment of two brothers.
See what a grace was feated on his * browe,
Hiperions curies, the front of hue him-felfe.
An eye like Mars, to threten and command,
A ftation like the herald Mercury,
New lighted on a heaue, a kilTing hill,
A combination and f forme indeed e,
Where euery god did feeme to fet his feale
To giue the world affurance of a man.
This was your hulband, looke you now what followes,
Heere is your hufband like a mildewed eare,
Blafting his wholefome brother : haue you eyes ?
Could you on this faire mountaine leaue to feede, '
And battoii oja this moore j ha, haue you eyes ?
Yo«
Prince of Denmarke
Ydu cannot call it loue, for at your age
The heyday in the blood is tame, it’s humble,
And waites vpon the iudgement, and what iudgement
Would ftep from this to this ? fence fure you haue <
Els could you not haue motion, but fure that fence
Is appoplext, for madnelTe would not erre
Nor fenc to extacie-was neere fo thral’d
But it refei'u’d fome quantity of choyce
To feme in fuch a difference. ’ What'diuell waft
That thus hath cqfond you at hodman-biind ?
Eyes without feeling, feeling without light,
Eares without hands, or eyes, fmelling fance all.
Or but a fickly part of one true fence
Could not fo mope,. O fliame ! where is thy blufh ?
Rebellious hell, ‘
If thou canft mutine in a matrons bones>
To flaming youth, let vertue be as wax
And melt in her owne fire^ proclaime no fhame
When the compulfiue ardure glues the charge.
Since frofl: itfelfe as acliuely doth burne.
And reafon pardons will.
Ger, O Hamlet fpeake no more.
Thou turn’ll my very eyes into my foule.
And there I fee fuch black and greened fpots
As will leaue there their tin’fl.
Ham, Nay but to line
In the rancke fweat of an incefiiious bed
Stewed in corruption, honying and making loue
Ouer thenafly ftie.
Ger, O fpeake to mee no more,
' Thefe words like daggers enter in my eares,
No more fweet Hamlet.
Ham. A murtherer and a villaine,
* mfeemed,
R 2
A flauq
The Tragedy of Hamlet
A flaue that is not twentith part the kyth
Of your precedent lord, a vice of kings,
A cut-purfe of the empire and the rule.
That from a flielfe the precious diadem flolc .
And put it in his pocket. *
Enter Ghoft.
Ham. A king of flircds and patches,
Sauc me and houer ore me with your wings
You heauenly gards : what would your gratious figure ?
Cer. AlaiTe hee’s mad.
Ham. Doe youe not come your tardy fonne to chide.
That lap’fi in time and pafiion lets goe by
Th* important adling of your dread command. O fay !
Ghqfi. Doe not forget : this vifitation
Is but to whet thy almofi: blunted purpofe.
But looke, amazement on thy mother fits,
O fiep between her, and her fighing f foule !
Conceit in weakefi: bodies firongefi workes,
Speake to her Hamlet.
Ham. How is it with you lady ?
Cer. AlafTehow i’fi with you ?
That you doe bend your eye on vacancy.
And with th’ incorporall ayre doe hold difeourfe,
Foorth at your e5^es your fpirrits wildly peep,
And as the fieeping fouldiers in th* alarme.
Your bcaded-X haire like life in excrements
Starts vp and (lands an end : O gentle fonne !
Vpon the heate and flame of thy diflemper
Sprinckle coole patience, whereon doe you looke ?
Ham. On him, on him, looke you how pale he glares.
His forme and caufe conioyned, preaching to flones
♦ Gert, Ni msre. l ft edit, f fgbiing. ^ bedded.
Would
Prince of Denmarke.
Would make them capable, doe not looke vpon me,
Leall with this pittious aftlon you conuert
My ftearne cfFe(fl:s, then what 1 haue to doe
Will want true collour, teares perchance for blood.
Cer. To whome doe you fpeake this I
Ham. Doe you fee nothing there ?
Ger, Nothing at all, yet all that is there * I fee.
Ham. Nor did you nothing heare ?
Ger, No nothing but our felues.
Ham. Why looke you there, looke how it fleales away.
My father in his habit as he liue’d,
Looke where he goes, euennow out at the portall.
Exit Ghoff,
Ger. This is the very coynage of your braine,
This bodilelTe creation, extacy is very cunning in.
Ham. My pulfe as yours doth temperatly keepe time,
And makes as healthfull muficke, it is not madnefle
That I haue vttred, bring me to the tefl,
And the matter will reword, which madnefle
Would gambole from. Mother for loue of grace,
Lay not that flattering vn61ion to your foule
That not your trefpafle but my madnefle fpeakes,
It will but fldn and filme the vlcerous place.
Whiles rancke corruption mining all within ^
Infedts vnfeene : confefle your felfe to heauen,
Repent what’s paft, auoyd what is to come.
And do not fpread the compofl: on the weedes
To make them rancker, forgiue me this my vertiie,
For in the fatnefle of thefe purfle times
Vertue it felfe' of vice mull pardon beg.
Yea curbe and wooe for Icaue to doe him good.
Cer. O Hamlet, thou haft cleft my hart in twaine.
* there ojnitted.
R3
Ham.
The Tragedy of Hamlet
Uam. O throw away the worfer part of it,
And leaue the purer with the other halfe.
Good night, but goe not to my vncles bed,
AfTume a vertue if you haue it not,
That monger cuAome, who all fence doth eate
Of habits deuill, is angell yet in this
That to the vfe of actions faire and good.
He likewife glues a frocke or liuery
That aptly is put on to refraine night.
And that fhall lend a kind of eafines
To the next abflinence, the next more eafic :
For vfe almofl; can change the Aamp of nature.
And maijler * the diuell, or throw him out
With wonderous potency : once more good night.
And when you are defirous to be blefl:.
He bleffing beg of you, for this fame lord
I doe repent ; but heauen hath pleaPd it fo
To punifn me with this, and this with me.
That I muff be their fcourge and minifler,
I will beflow him and will anfwer well
The death I gaue him ; fo againe good night
1 muff be cruel! onely to be kinde,
This bad beginnes, and worfe remaines behind.
One word more good lady.
Ger. What fhall I doe ?
■ Ham. Not this by no meanes that I bid you doe.
Let the blowt king temp’t you againe to bed,
Pinch wanton on your cheeke, call you his moufe.
And let him for a paire of reechy kiffes.
Or padling in your necke with his damn’d fingers.
Make you to rouell all this matter cut
That I efTeiuially am not in madneffe.
But mad in craft, t’were good you let him know.
* either.
For
/
Prince of Denmarke.
For who that’s but a queene, faire, fober, wife,
Would from a paddack, from a bat, a gib.
Such deare concernings hide, who would doe fo,
No, in difpight of fence and fecrecy,
Vnpeg the balket on the houfes top,
Let the birds fly, and like the famous ape.
To try conclufions in the balket creepe,
And brcake your owne necke downe.
Ger. Be thou afllir’d, if words be made of breath.
And breath of life, I haue no life to breath
What thou hafl: fayd to me.
Ham.^ I mufl to England, you know that,
Ger. Alacke I had forgot.
Tis fo concluded on.
Ham. Ther’s letters feald, and my two fchoolefellowes,
,Whom I will trufl: as I will adders fang’d.
They beare the mandat, they mufl: fv/eepe my way
And marfliall me to knauery : let it worke,
For tis the fport to haue the enginer
Hoifl with his owne petar, an’t (hall goe hard
But I will delue one yard belowe their mines,
And blow them at the moone : O tis mofl fweets
When in one line two crafts direffly meete.
This man Ihall fet me packing,
He lugge the guts into the neighbour roome ;
Mother good night indeed, this counfayler
Is now mofl flill, mofl fecret, and mofl graue.
Who was in life a mofl foolifli prating knaue.
Come fir, to draw toward an end with you.
Good night mother. ' Exit,
Enter King, and Queene, 'with Rofencraus and Gyldenflerne.
King. There’s matter inthefe fighes, thefe profound heaues ;
You mufl tranflate, tis fit we vnderfland them,'
Where is your fonne ?
.R4 Cert>
The Tragedy of Hamlet
Cert. Beftow this place on vs a little while.
Ah mine ownc lord, what haue I fccne to night ?
King. What Gcrtracl^ how dooes Hamlet ?
Cert. l\Iad as the fea and wind when both contend
Which is the mightier in his lawIefTe fit.
Behind the arras hearing fomething ffiire,
Whips out his rapier, cryeis a rat, a rat.
And in this brainifli apprehenfion kills
The vnfeene good old man.
King. O heauy deed !
It had beene fo with vs had we bcene there.
His liberty is full of threates to all,
To you your felfe, to vs, to euery one,
Alas, how ftiall this bloody deede be anfwer’d ?
It will be layd to vs, whofe prouidence
Should haue kept fhort, rehraind, and out of haunt
This mad young man ; but fo much was our loue.
We would not vnderfland what was moll fit,
But like the owner of a foule difeafe
To keepe it from divulging, let it feede
Euen on the pith of life : where is he gone ?
Cert. To draw apart the body he hath kild.
Ore whom, his very madneffe like fome ore
Among a minerall of mettals bafe,
Showes it felfe pure, a weepes for what is done.
King. Gertrad, com away.
The funne no fooner fliall the mountaines touch.
But wee will fhippe him henee, and this vile deede
A\^ee mufl with all ourmaiehy and fkill
Enter Rof. andGuyX^.
Both countenance and excufe. Ho Cuyldenjlerne,
Friends both, goe ioyne you with fome further ayde,
Prince of Denmarke.’
EamletAxi madnes hath Poloniiis flaiiie.
And from his mothers clolTet hath hee drag’d him,
Goe feeke him out fpeake fayre and bring the body
Into the Chappell ; I pray you haft in this,
Come Gertrard, .wee’le call vp our wifeft friends, • •
And let them know both what wee meane to do . '
And whats vntimely done,
Whofe whifper ore the worlds diameter.
As leuell as the cannon to his blanck,
Tranfports his poyfned ftiot, may milfe our name.
And hit the woundlefte ayre, O come away.
My foule is full of difcord and difmay. Exeunt,
Enter Hamlet, Rofencraus and others.
Ham. Safely ftowd, but foftly, what noyfe, who calls on
Hamlet ?
O heere they come.
Rof. What haue you done my lord with the dead body ?
Ham. Compounded it with duft whereto it is kin.
Rof. Tell vs where tis that wee may take it thence.
And beare 1. to the chappell.
Ham. Do not beleeue it.
Rof. Beleeue what ?
Ham. That I can keepe your counfaile and not mine owne,
befides to be demaunded of a fpunge, what replication ftiould
be made by the fonne of a king.
Rof. Take you me for a fpunge my lojrd ?
Ham. I fir, that fokes vp the kings countenance, his rewards,
his authorities, but fuch officers do the king beft feruice in the
end, he keepes them like an apple in the corner of his iaw, firft
mouth’d to be laft fwallowed, when he needs what haue
gleand, it is but fqueefing you, and fpunge you (hall be dry
againe.
Rof I vnderftand you not my lord.
Emu
The Tragedy of Hamlet
Ham, I am glad of it, a knaulih fpcech (leepes in a foolidi earc.
Rof, My lord, you mufl tell vs where the body is, and go
with vs to the king.
Ham. The body is with the king, but the king is not with
the body. The king is a thing.
Ciiyl. A thing my lord.
Ham, Of nothing, bring me to him. ‘ Exeunt,
Enter King, and tiuo or three.
King. I haue fent to feeke him, and to find the body,
How dangerous is it that this man goes loofe.
Yet mufi not we put the firong law on him,
Hee’s lou’d of the difi:ra6fed multitude,
Who like not in their iudgement, but their eyes.
And where tis fo, th’ offenders fcourge is wayed
But neuer the offence : to beare all fmooth and euen,
This fuddaine fending him away muft feeme
Deliberate paufe, difeafes defperate growne.
By defperate applyance are relieu’d
Or not at all.
Enter Rofencraus and all the rejl.
King. How now, what hath befalne ?
Rof, Where the dead body is befiowd my lord
We cannot get from him.
^ King, But where is he ?
Rof. Without my lord, guarded to know your pleafure.
King. Bring him before vs.
Rof. Hoe, bring in the lord.
They enter.
King. Now Hamlet i where’s Polonhis f
Ham. At fupper,
Kwg. At fupper where,'
Ham,
'Prince of Denmarke.'
Ham. Not where he eates, but where ^ * is eaten, a cer-
taine conuocation of politique wormes are een at him : your
worme is your only emperour for dyer, we fat all creatures elfe
to fat vs, and we fat ourfelues for maggots, your fat king and
your leane begger is but variable feruice, two dilhes but to
one table, that’s the end.
King. Alalle, alafle.
Ham. A man may fifii with the worme that hath eate of a
king, eate of the fifh that hath fedde of that worme.
King. What doll thou meane by this ?
Ham. Nothing but to (hew you how a king may go a pro-
grefs through the giittes of a begger.
King. Where is Polonius ?
Ham. In heauen, fend thether to fee. If your mefTenger find
him not there, feeke him i’th other place your felfe, but if in-
deed you find him not within this month, you fhall nofehim as
you goe vppe the Itayres into the lobby.
King. Goe feeke him there.
Ham. A will flay till you come.
King. Hamlet this deede for thine efpeciall fafety
Which wee do tender, as wee deerely greeue
For that which thou haft done, muft fend thee hence:
Therefore prepare thy felfe.
The barke is ready, and the wind at heipe,
Th’aftbtiats tend, and euery thing is bent
For England,
Ham. For England,
King. I Hamlet,
Ham. Good.
King. So is it if thou knew’ft our purpofcs.
Ham, I fee a cherub that fees them, but come for England,
Farewell deere mother.
King. Thy louing father Hamlet.
Ham, My mother, father and mother is man and wife,
* be.
Mao
The Tragedy of Hamlet
Man and wife is one flefli, fo my mother :
Come for England. Exit.
King. Follow him at foote.
Tempt him with fpeede abonrd.
Delay it not, He haue him hence to night.
Away, for euery thing is feald and done
That els leanes on the affaire, pray you make haft.
And England my loue thou hold’ft at ought.
As my great power thereof may giue thee fence,
Since yet thy cicatrice lookes raw and red.
After the Danijh fword, and thy free awe
Payes homage to vs, thou maift not colaly fet
Our foueraigne procefte, which imports at full
By letters congruing to that effefl:
The prefent death of Hamlet y do it England,
For like the he6lique in my blood hee rages.
And thou mu ft cure me till I know tis done.
How ere my haps, my ioyes will nere beginne. Exit.
Enter Fortinbrafle ueith his armie oner the Jlage.
Fortin. Goe captalne, from 'mee greet the Danijlo king,
Tell him, that by his lycence Fortinhrajfe
Cranes the conueyance of a promis’d march
Ouer his kingdome, you know the rendezuous,
If that his maiefty would ought with vs.
Wee fliall expreffe our duty in his. eye,
And let him know fo.
Cap. I will doo’t my lord.
Fortin* Go foftly on. o
Enter Hamlet, Rofencraus, 6’^'.
Ham. Good fir whofe powers are thefe ?
Cap. The are Norway fir.
- Ham. How propoid fir I pray you ?
Prince of DenmarkeI
Cap. Agamfl: fome part of Poland,
Ham. Who commands them fir ?
Cap. The nephew to old Nor^vay, FortinbraJJe.
Ham. Goes it againft the maine of Poland fir I ^
Or for fome frontire ?
Cap. Triiely to fpeake, and with no addition,
We goe to galne a little patch of ground.
That hath in it no profit but the name
To pay fiue duckets, fine I would not farme it ?
Nor will it yeeld to Norway or the Pole
A rancker rate, fiiould it bee fould in fee.
Ham. Why then the Pollache neuer will defend it.
Cap. Yes it is already garifond.
Ham. Two thoufand foules and twenty thoufand duckets
Will not debate the quefiion of this ftraw.
This is th’ impofiume of much wealth and peace,
That inward breakes and fhewes no caufe without
Why the man dies. I humbly thanke you fir.
Cap. God buy you fir.
Rof. Wil’t pleafe you goe my lord ?
Ham. He be with you ftraight, goe a little before.’
How all occafions do informe againfi: mee.
And fpur my dull reuenge. What is a man
If his chiefe good and market of his time
Be but to fieepe and feed, a bead:, no more :
Sure he that made us with fuch large difcourfc
Looking before and after, gaue vs not
That capability and God-like reafon
To full in vs vnufd, now whether it be
Befiiall obliuion, or fome crauen fcruple
Of thinking too precifely on th’ euent,
A thought which quartered hath but one part wlfdouie,
And euer three parts coward, I doe not know
Why yet I Hue tg fay this thing’s to doe,
Sitb
The Tragedy of Hamlet
Sith I haue caufe, and wll and flrength, and mcancs
To doo’t ; examples groflTe as earth exhort me,
Witnes this army of fuch mafle and charge.
Led by a delicate and tender prince,
Whofe fpirit with diuine ambition puft.
Make mouthes at the inuifible cuent,
Expofing what is mortal I, and vnfure,
To all that fortune, death, and danger dare, ,
Euen for an Egge-Ihell. .Rightly to be great.
Is not to Rirre without great argument.
But greatly to find.quarrell in a flraw
When honour’s at • the Rake. How Rand I then
That haue a father kild, a mother Raind,
Ejicytements of my reafon, and my blood,
And let all Reepe, while to my fliame I fee '
The iminent death of twenty thoufand men.
That for a fantafie and tricke of fame ;
Goe to their graues like beds, fight for a plot '
Whereon the numbers cannot try the caufe, ^
Which is not tombe enough and continent
To hide, the flaine. O from this time forth.
My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth. * Exit,
Enter Horatio, Gertrard, and a gentleman,
^lee. I will not fpcake with her.
Gen, She Is importunat,
Indeed diRraff, her moode will needes be pittied.
^ee. What would fhe haue ?
Cent, She fpeakes much of her father, fayes fliee heares
There’s tricks i’th world, and hems, and beats her heart.
Spumes enuioufly at Rrawes, fpeakes things in doubt
That carry but halfe fence, her fpeech is nothing.
Yet the vnRiaped vfe of it doth moue
The hearers to colledlion, they yawne at it.
And
Prince of Denmarke^ *
And botch the words vp fit to their owhe thoughts,
Which as winckes, and nods, and geftures yeeld them,
Indeede would make one thinke there might be thought
Though nothing fare, yet much vnhappily.
Hora. Twere good (he were fpoken with, for 'file mayflrew
Dangerous conie^lures in ill-breeding mindes,
Let her come in.
Enter Ophelia.
^ee, ‘ To my ficke foule, as finnes true nature Is,
‘ Each toy feemes prologue to fome great amifie,
« So full of artlefle iealofie is guilt,
< It fpills it felfe, in fearing to be fpilt.
Oph. Where is the beauteous maiefiy of Denmarke ?
^ee. How now Ophelia,
She ftngs.
Oph, How fhould I your true loue know from another one.
By his cockle hat and fiafFe, and his fendall fiioone.
^lee, Alafle fweet lady, what imports this fong ?
Oph, Say you, nay pray you marke, ^
Song.
He is dead and gone lady, he is dead and gone.
At his head a grade greene turph, at his heeles a (tone.
Oho.
^ee. Nay but Ophelia,
Oph, Pray you marke. White his fiirowd as the mountalae
fflOW.
Enter King.
^ee, Alafie looke heere my lord.
Song.
Ophe, Larded all with fweet flowers.
Which beweept to the ground did not go
With true loue fiiowers.
The Tragedy of Hamlet
King. How doe you pretty lady >
Oph. Well good dild you, they ’fay the owlc was a bakers
daughter, lord wee know what wee are, but know not what
we may be, God be at your table.
, King. Conceit vpon her father.
Ophe. Pray lets haue no words of this, but when they alke
you what it meanes, fay you this.
Song.
To morrow is S. Valentines day,
All in the morning betime,
And I a mayd at your window
To be your Valentine.
Then vp he rofe, and dond his clofe, and dupt the chamber
doore,
Let in the maide, that out a maide, neuer departed more.
King. Pretty Ophelia.
Ophe. Indeed without an oath He make an end ont.
By gis and by faint charity,
Alacke and fie for jfhame, . .
Young men will doo’t if they come too’t.
By cocke they are too blame.
Quoth Ihe, before you tumbled me, you promifd me to wed,
(He anfwers) So Jhoidd * I a done by yonder funne
And thou hadfi: not come to my bed.
King. How long hath fhee beene thus ?
’Oph. I hope all will be well, we muft be patient, but I can-
not chufe but weepe to thinke they would lay him i’th’ cold
ground my brother lhall know of it, and fo I thanke you for
your good counfaile.
Come my coach, god night ladles, god night.
Sweet laides god night, god night.
King. Follow her clofe, giue her good \Yatch I pray you.
* •would, " • ^
" O this
. Prince of Denmarke.'
O this is the poyfoa of deepe griefe, it fprings all from hei
fathers death, and now behold, O Gertrardy Gertrard^
When forrowes come, they come not fingle fpies.
But in battalians : firfl her father flaine.
Next, your fonne gone, and he mofl violent author
Of his owne iufl remoue, the people muddied
Thick and vnwholefome in thoughts, and whifpers
For good Polonius death : and we haue done but greenly
In hugger mugger to inter him : poore Ophelia
Deuided from herfelfe, and her faire iudgement.
Without the which we are pi6lures, or meere beafls,
Laft, and as much contayning as all thefe.
Her brother is in fecret come from France,
Feeds on this wonder, keepes himfelfe in clowdes*
And wants not buzzers to infe^f his eare
With peftilent fpeeches of his fathers death.
Wherein neceffity of matter beggerd,
Will nothing jflick our perfon to arraigne
In eare and eare : O my dear Gertrard, this
Like to a murdring-peece in many places
Giues me fuperfluous death. A noyfe 'withini
Enter a mejfenger*
Kmg» Attend, where are my Swi/fers, let them guard the
doore.
What is the matter ?
Mejfen. Saue your felfe my lord.
The ocean ouer-peering of his lift.
Fates not the flats with more impetuous * half
Then young Laertes in a riotous head
Ore-beares your officers : the rabble call him lord.
And as the world were now but to beginne,
* Inpitious,
s
VoL. IV.
Antiquity
The Tragedy of Hamlet
'"•Antiquity forgot, cnftome not knowne, ' , *
The ratificrs and props of eiicry word.
The cry choofe wc, Laertes (hall be king.
Caps, hands and tongues applau'd it to the clouds,
(hall be king, Laertes yJmg. ‘
^le. How cheerefully on the falfe traile they cry.
' ' - ’ ■ A noife ’within*.
O this is counter, you falfe Danijh dogges.
Enter Laertes ’with others.
• \
King. The doores are broke. -
Laer. Where is this king i firs flaiid you all without.
A/i. No lets come in.. ' ' *
Laer. I pray you glue mee leaue.
A//. . We will, we will. ^ »
Laer. I thanke you : keepe the doore, O thou vile king,
Giuc me my father. ' .
^lee. Calmely good Laertes. . ^ •
Laer. That drop of blood thats cal me proclalmes me badard.
Cries cucjkold to my father, brands the harlot
Euen he'ere betweene the chaft vnfmefehed browe
Of my true mother.
King. What is the caufe Laertes
That thy rebellion lookes fo giant-like ?’ ' '
Let him goe Certrard, do not feare our perfon.
There’s fuch diuinity doth hedge a king.
That treafon cannot peepe to'what it would.
Aft’s little of his will, tell me Laertes
Why thou art. thus incenlf, let him goe Gertrard,
Speake man.
Laer. Where is my father I
King. Dead.
^ee. But not by him.
I
- -Prince *0F Denmarke?* -
King. Let him demat] nd HiS- fill. " - •*' ; ' I
Laer. How came he dead ? He not be iugled'WifhJ* - •• i
To hell alegiance, vowes to the blackeft diuell^' { . ■ r'
Corifcience and grace, to the profoundefl: pit i ^ •
I dare damnation, io this poynt I ftand, : ..i ?. l
That both the worlds I gine to negligence.
Let come what comes, onely He be reuengd
Moil throughly for my father., P .
King. Who (hall flay you ? , . • . , ^ 1 \
Laer. My will, not all the worlds :
And for my.meanes Ile'hui^Bdthem fo well; . • ^ .
The (hall go farre with little. ^ ^ ^ ^
King. Good I^z^r/^vil'jpu.deflre to knovv-^the the certainty^
^Of your deefe father, i’fl rWtir in your reuenge,- '
That foQpcr flake,' you 'will draw both- friend apd foe j [
Winner and loof'er. . rnd? • £' <■ ’ oj c
. La^. None bm^ his- enemies,, / — a'ei- !'r
King. Will youdaiow,them then ? • ; _ r ;■ >
Laer ...To his good friends thus wide Pie ope iny armesj.
And like the kind life-rendering pelican, /
"Repa'fl than, with' my blood. - , .
Kingi Why now yau.Lpeake t --
fLike a good child and:a\trye gentleman,
ThacT am^guiltlefTe of your fathers death,^
And am mofl .fencible ra.^geiefe for ity
It fhall as leuell to your.iudgement peare
As day dooes to your eye. , r ^ '
-St a'.-'-!
c'yiJ-. ' Ir
■
1 . .
J noyfe uiithin*
Enter Ophelia.
Laer. Let her come in, ' ^ ^
How now what noyfe is that ?
O heate, dry vp my'braines,' teares feauentlmes fait
Burne out the fence and vertue of mine eye.
S2 By
The Tragedy of Hamlet
By hcauen thy madnes (hall be payd with weight
I'ill our fcale turne the beame. O rofe of May,
Deere mayd, kind fifter, fweet OpheUuy
O heauens, iif pofTible a young maids wits
Should be as mortal! as a poore mans life !
Song. ,
Ophe, They bore him bare-fac*d on the beere.
And in his graue rain’d many a teare.
Fare you well my doue. - • ‘
Laer. Hadft thou thy wits, an^ did’fl perfwade reuengc ,
It could not mooue thus.
bphe. You mufl fing a downe a doWne,
And you call him a downe a. O how the wheele becomes it
It is the falfe fleward that ffole his maifters daughter,
Laer, This nothing’s more then matter. .
Ophe, There’s rofemary, that for remembrance, pray you
loue remember, and there is pancies, thafs for thoughts. '
Lder. A document in madnes, thoughts and remembrance
fitted.
Ophe, There’s fennill for you, and colembines, there’s rewe
for you, and heere’s fome for me, we may call it her be of
grace a Sondaies, you may weare your rewe with a difference,
there’s a dafie, I would giiie you fome violets, but they
witherd all when my father dyed, they fay a made a good end.
For bonny fweet Robin is all my ioy.
' Laer. Thought and affliflions, paflion, hell it felfe
She turnes to fauour and to prettinefTe.
Song.
Ophe. And will a not come againe.
And will a not come againe.
No, no, he is dead, goe to thy death bed.
He neuer will come againe.
Prince of Denmarke.
His beard was as white as fnow.
Flaxen was his pole, »
He is gone, he is gone, and we call away moiie,
God a mercy on his foule, and all chrillians foules,
God buy yous
Laer, Doe you this O God.
King. Laertes, I mull commune with your griefe,
Or you deney me right, goe but a part.
Make choice of whome your wifell friends you will.
And they fliali heare and iudge twixt you and me,
If by diredl or by colaturall hand
They find vs toucht, we will our kindome giue.
Our crowne, our life, and all that we call ours
To you in fatisfadlion ; but if not.
Be you content to lend your patience to vs.
And we fiiall ioyntly labour with your foule
To giue it due content.
Laer. Let this be fo.
His meanes of death, his obfcure funerall.
No trophae, fword, nor hachment ore his bones.
No noble right, nor formall oflentation.
Cry to be heard as twere from heauen to earth,
That I mull call’t in quellion.
Kin. So you (hall.
And where th’ offence Is, let the great axe fall.
I pray you goe with me. Exeunt,
Enter Horatio and others*
Hora, What are they that would fpeake with me ?
Gen, Sea-faring men fir, they fay they haue letters for you.
Hora. Let them come in.
I doe not know from what part of the .world
I fhould be greeted. If not from lord Hamlet,
* you,
s 3
Enter
The Tragedy of Hamlet
Enter Saykrs^
Say. God blcfTe you fir
Bora. Let him blcfTe thee to. *
Say. A fliall lir and 'pleaTe' him, there’s a letter for you fir,
it came from th’ cmbaffador that was bound for England^ if
your name btt Horatio, as I am let td know it is.
Hor. Horatio,' when thou (halt haue over-look’t this, giue
thefe fellowes Tome meanes to the kii^g, they haue letters for
him : ere wee Were two duies old at Tea, a pyiat of very war-
like appointment gave vs chafe, hading our felues too flow of
faile, we put on a compelled valour, and in the grapple I
boorded them', on the inllaht they got cleere of our fhip, fo
I alone became their prnfoner, they haue dealt with me like
theeues of mercy, but they knew what they^ did I am to doe
a turne for them, let the king haue the letters I haue fent, and
repayre thou to m'ee’with as much fpeed as thou wculdfl fly
death. I haue words to fpeake in thine eare wii make thee
dumbe, yet are they much too light for the bord of the matter,
thefe good fellowes will bring thee where I am, Rofencraus and
Guilderjlcrne hold their courfe for England, of them I haue
much to tell thee,- far well. . ' •
■ So that thou kno'wejl thine Hamlet.
Horn. Come I will make you way for thefe your letters.
And doo’t the fpeedier that you. may dire<^ me
To him from whome you brought them. , Exeunt,.
^ Enter King md Laer tes.
'King. 'Now.mufl: you^j* confcience my acquittance feale.
And 'you mu^. put. me in your heart for friend^ , -
Sith vou haue heard and with a knowing epe^; .
That he which h$^b yPijraiobie father flamj? .
Purfued my life, ,'«iv >• ,
Laer,
r Prince of Denmarke.
Lar. It well appeared : but tell me
Why you proceede not againft thefe feates.
So criminall and fo capitall in nature,
As by your fafety, greatnes, wifdome, all things els.
You mainly -were ftirr’d vp.
King. O for two fpeciall reafons '
Which may to you perhaps feeme much vnfinnow’d.
But yet to me tha’r ftrong, the queene his mother
Lines almofl by his lookes, and for my felfe.
My vertue or my plague, be it either which.
She is fo concliue to my life and foule.
That as the flarre mooues not but in his fphere
I could not but by her, the other motiue, ' • '
Why to a publique count I might not goe, ' ^ -
Is the great loue the generall gender bearehim, ' -
Who dipping all his faults in their affe^Sfion, * ‘
Worke like the fpring that turneth wood to ftone, ' ^
Conuert his giues to graces, fo that my arrowes
Too nightly tymbered for fo loued armes
Would haue reuerted to my bow againe,
But not where I haue aym’d them.
Laer. And fo haue I \ a noble father loft,
A filler driuen into defperat termes,
Whofe w^orth, if prayfes may goe backe againe
Stood challenger on mount of all the age
For her perfeflions, but my reuenge will come.
King. Breake not your Ileepes for that, you mull not
thinke
That we are made of ftufTe fo flat and dull.
That we can let otir herd be fliooke with danger.
And thinke it paftime, you fliortly Ihall heare more.
I lou’(|
* armd. •f' I haue,
. S4
The Tragedy of Hamlet
I lou’d your father, and we loue our felfe,
And that I hope will teach you to imagine.
Enter a mejjengcr 'ivith letters.
Mejfe. Thefe to your malefty, this to the queene.
King. From Hamlet y who brought them ?
Mejfe. Saylers my lord they fay, I faw them not.
They were giuen me by Claudio ^ he receiued them
Of him that brought them.
King. Laertes you (hall heare them : leaue vs.
High and mighty, you lhall know I am feV naked on your
kingdome, to morrow fhall I begge leaue to fee your kingly eyes,
when I fhall, firll: afking your pardon, there- vn to recount the
occafion of my fuddaine returne.
King. What fhould this meane, are all the reft come
backe.
Or is it fome abufe, and no fuch thing ?
Laer. Know you the hand ?
King. Tis Hamlets carafter. Naked,
And in a poftfeript here he faies alone,
Can you deuife me ?
Laer. I am loft in it my lord, but let him come.
It warmes the very ficknes in my heart
That I Hue and tell him to his teeth.
Thus didft thou.
; King. If It be fo Laertes,
As how Ihould it be fo, how otherwife,
Will you be rul’d by me ?
Laer. I my lord, fo you will not ore-rule me to a peace.
King. To thine owne peace, if he be now returned.
As liking not his voyage, and that he meanes.
No more to vnder take it, I will worke him
To an exploy t, now ripe in my deuife,
Vnder
Prince of Denmarke."
Vnder the which he fhall not choofe but fall ;
And for his death no winde of blame fhall breathe,
But euen his mother fhall vncharge the praftife.
And call it accedent.
Laer, My lord I will be rul’d,
The rather if you could deuife it fo
That I might be the organ.
King. It falls right,
You haue beene taL.t of fince your trauaile much,
And that in Hamlets hearing for a quality
Wherein they fay you fhine, yourfumme of parts
Did not together plucke fuch cnuy from him
As did that one, and that in my regard
Of the vnworthieff hedge.
Laer, What part is that my lord ?
King, A very riband"^ in the cap of youth.
Yet needfull too, for youth no lefle becomes
The light and carelefle liuery that it weares
Then fettled age, his fables, and his weedes
Importing health and grauenes ; two monthes hnce
Heere was a gentleman of Normandy^
I haue feene my felfe, and feru’d againfl the French,
And they can well on horfe-backe, but this gallant
Had witch -craft in’t, he grew vnto his feate.
And to fuch wondrous dooing brought his horfe.
As had he beene incorp’fl, and demy-natur’d
With the braue beaft, fo farre he topt me thought.
That I in forgery of Ihapes and tricks
Come (hort of what he did.
Laer, A Norman waft ?
King. A Norman.
Laer. Vpon my life Lcmord,
King. The very fame.
Laer,
* rib*ud.
The Tragedy of Hamlet
Lagr. I know him, well he is the brooch indeed
And iem of all,, the nation.
King, He made confcilion of you.
And gaue you fuch a^’maiflerly report
For art and exercife in your defence.
And for your rapier mofl: efpeciall,
That he cryd out t’would be a fight indeed
If one could match you ; the ferimers * of their nation
He fwore had neither motion, guard, nor eye,
If you oppos’d them ; fir this report of his
Did Hamlet fo enuenom with his enuy.
That he could nothing do, but wiili and beg
Your fodaine commingore to play with you.
Now out of this.
Laer. What out of this my lord ?
King. Laertes was your father, deere to you ?
Or are you like the painting of a forrowe,
A face without a heart I
Laer. Why afke you this ?
King. Not that I thinke you did not loue your father.
But that I know, loue is begunne by time.
And that I fee in pafifages of proofe,
Time qualiifies the fparke and fire of it.
There liues within the very flame of loue
A kind of weeke or fnufle that will abate it.
And nothingds at a like goodnes flill.
For goodnes growing to a plurifie.
Dies in his owne too much, that we would doc
We fliould doe when wee would ; for this would changes.
And hath abatements and delayes as many.
As there are tongues, are hands, are accedents.
And then this fliould is like a fpend-thrifts figh.
That hurts by eafing *, but to the quicke of th’vlcer,
ferimures.
Prince of Denmarke.'
Hamlet comes back what would you vndertake
To (how your felfe indeed your fathers fonne
More then in words ?
Laer. To cut his throat i’th church. ~
King. No place indeede (hould murther fan^luarize,
Reuengde (hould haue no bounds: but good Laertes
Will you doe this, keep clofe within your chamber
Hamlet return’d, fhail know you are come home,
Weele put on thofc ihall praife your CKcellence,
And fet a doable varnifb on the fame
The Frenchman gaue you : bringyoa in in fine together
And wager ore your heads ; he being remifie,
Mofi; generous, and free from all centriuing.
Will not perufe the foyles, fo that with eafe,
Or with a little fhufiling, you may choofe
A fwoi’d vnbated, and in a pace of practife.
Requite him for your father.
Laer. I will doo’t,
And for the purpofe, He annoynt my fword.
I bought aft vniHion of a rnountibancke
So mortall, that but dippe a knife in it,
Where it drawes blood, no calaplafme fo rare,
Colle£led from all fimples that hauevertue
Vnder the moonc, can faue the thing from death
That is but fcratcht withall. He tutch my point
With this contagion, that if I gall him Rightly, it may be
death.
King. Lets further thinke of this.
Wey what conueiance both of time and meanes
May fit vs to our fliape if this fhould fayle,
And that our drift looke through our bad performance;
Twere better not afiayd. Therefore this proiedl:,
Should haue a backe or fccond that might hold
If this did blafl in proofe ; foft let me fee.
Wee’If
The Tragedy of Hamlet
Wce’lc make a folcmne wager on your cunnings,
I haul *, when in your motion you are hote and dry.
As make your bouts more violent to that end.
And that he calls for drinke, He haue preferd him
A challice for the once whereon but fipping.
If he by chance efcape your venom’d flucke.
Our purpofe may hold there ; but flay, what noyfe ?
Enter queene.
^lee. One woe doth tread vpon anothers heele.
So fafl they follow; your fillers drownd Laertes.
Laer. Drown’d, O where I
^lee. There is a willow growes afeaunt the brooke.
That fhowes his hoary leaues in the glaffy flreamc,
There with fantaflique garlands did fhe make
Of crowflowers^ nettles, dafies, and long purples
That liberall fhepheards glue a grofler name,
But our cull-cold maydes doe dead mens fingers call them.
There on the pendant boughes her coronet || weeds
Clambring to hang, an enuious fluer broke.
When down her weedy trophaes and her felfe.
Fell in the weeping brooke, her clothes fpred wide.
And mermaide-like a while they bore her vp,
Which time fhe chaunted fnatches of old laudes.
As one incapable of her owne diflrefle.
dr like a creature, natiue and indewed
Vnto that element, but long it could not be
Till that her garments heauy with their drinke,
Puld the poore luench J from her melodious lay
To muddy death.
Laer. Alas then Is fhe drownd.
^lee* Drownd, drownd.
* baltt % Ktnce,
I] crentt, § xuretcb.
Prince of DenmarkeT
Lar. Too much of water haft thou poorc Ophelia^
And therefore I forbid my teares ; but yet
It is our tricke, nature her cuftome holds, '
Let ftiame fay what it will, when thefe are gone,
. The woman will be out. Adiew my lord,
‘ I haue a fpeech a fire that faine would blafe,
But that this folly drownes it.
King. Lets follow Gertrard.
How much I had to doe to calme his rage.
Now feare I this will giue it ftart againe.
^ Therefore lets follow.
Enter tvjo clownes.
‘ . Clowne. Is ftie to be buried lachriftian burlall, when ftie wil-
fully feekes her owne faluation ?
Other. I teir thee Ihe is, therfore make her graue ftraight,
the crowner hath fate on her, and finds it chriftian buriall. '
^ Clow. How can that be, vnlefle ftie drown’d herfelfe in her
owne defence:
' 0th. Why tis found fo.
' Clow. It muft be fo offended, it cannot be elfe, for heere.
lyes the poynt, if I drowne my felfe wittingly, it argues an
a’6:, and an adt hath- three branches, it is to a6i:, to doe, to
performe, or all ; ftie drownd her felfe wittingly. ^
0th. Nay, but heare you good man deluer.
Clow. Giue me leaue, here lies the water, good, here ftands
the man, good, if the man goe to this water and drowne him-
felfe, it is will he, nill he, he goes, marke you that, but if
the water come to him, and drowne him, he drownes not
himfelfe, argali, he that is not guilty of his owne death,
ftiortens not his owne life.
Oth. But is this law ?
Clow. I marry i’ft, crowners queft law.
ptk
Exit>^
Exeunt.
The Traoedv of Hamlet
0th. Will you ha'" the truth an’t, if this had not becne a
gentlewoman, fhe (holild haue bin buried out a cliriflian
bureau.
Clchj. Why there thou fay If, and the more pitty that great
folke fliould haue countenance in this world to drown or hang
themfclues, more then their euen chriften : come my fpade,
•there is no auncient gentlemen but gardncrs, ditchers, and
grane-makers, they hold vp Mams profcfTion.
0th. V/as he a gentleman ? ‘ ’ ■
Ciow. A%as the firfl that euer bore armes.
•Ile'^it another queftion to thee, if thou ^infwercft me not to
the purpofe, coiifeiTe thy felfe.
0th Goe to.
, l-yQsw^r Whzt isihe that .buijds Wronger then either the ma*
fon, the fnipwright, or the carpenter. ^ ./;i /'hT
• Ot/f. The gallbwes-maker, for that out-liues a thoufand
tenn?mts... ' ”\ [j ' L
' Clowr.^1 like thy wit well in good faith, the gallowes dooes
well, but how dooes it well ? it dopes well to thofe that do
ill, now thou doofl ill to fay the gallowes is built Wronger then
. j^elchw oh’', ^cg'al, -the gallowes may doe well to thee. Too’t
..againe, conie.V. ;/ .>• •< .
* fifbsr. ^ho buildes flrbnger then a mafon, a fhipwright,
or a carpenter.. . ’ u ^ ’<
Clow. I, telhme that and vnyoke. •
0th. :^.Iarry now! 'can ’tell. '
• • 'Ctb.. Toio’t. ‘ew ' - X 'j
Clow. 'MalTe I cannot tell.
•* Clow. Cudgell thybraines no more about it, for your dull
r’afle will not mend his pace with beating, and when you are
afkt this queflion next, fay a graue- maker, the houfes he makes
lafl: tell doomefday.
Goe get thee in and fetch me a foope of liquer.
Song.
Prince of Denmarke.T
S 0 n'g.
In youth when I did loue did loue, ' ' - - I P ^
Me thought it v/as very fweet ’ ' ^
To contraft O the time for a my behoue, ' '■ '
O me thought there a- was nothing a meet. - ^
Enter Hamlet and Horatio.
Ham, Has this fellow no feeling of his bufines ?- ;a Tings it
graue-making. •. ... i
Hora, Cuflome hath made it in him a property of eafmes.
' ■ Ha, Tis een fo, the hand' of little imploiment . hath the
daintier fence. ' n • ’ t •
. , . So N G;- ' '
Clow, But age with his dealing fteppes '» ■ > ’ •• . -
Hath clawed mee in his clutch,
And hath (hipped me into the land, • ' ' ' . r'
As if I had neuer beene fuch.' •?- . l
Ham. That fleull had a. tongue in it, and could fing once,
how the knaueidwles it to 'the ground, as if tv/ere Caines iaw\*
bone, that did the firfl murder : this might be the pate of a
poiliticia, which this affe now ore-reaches, one that would
circumuent God, might it not ? •
Hora. It might my lord.
Ham. Or of a courtier, which could fay good ’morrow my
lord : how doll thou fweet lord ? this might be my lord fuch
a one, that praifed my lord fuch a ones horfe whe a me?it f to
beg it : might it not ?
Hora. I my lord.
Ham. Why een fo, and now my lady wormes choples, and
knockt about the mazer § with a fextens fpade; heer’s fine
reuolution and we had the trick to fee’t, did thefe bones cofl
no more the breeding, but to play at loggits with them : mine
ake to thinke pnt,
* fiveet, J went. § majfene.
Song,
The Tragedy of Hamlet
Song.
Chw, A pickax and a fpade a fpade,
for and a fhrowding flieet,
Or a pit of clay for to be made
for fuch a guefl is meet.
Ham. There’s another, why may not that be the fkull of
a lawyer ? where be his quiddities now, his quillities, his
cafes, his tenurs, and his trickes ? why dooes he fuffer this
mad knaue now to knock him about the fconce with a durty
fhouell, and will not tell him of his aflion of battery : hum,
this fellow might be in’s time a great buyer of land, with his
flatutes, his recognifances, his fines, his double vouchers, his
recoueries, to haue his fine pate full of fine durt : will vou-
chers vouch him no more of his purchafes and doubles then
the length and breadth of a payre of indentures ? thevety con-
iteyances of his lands will fcarcely lye in this box, and muft
th’inheritor himfelfc haue no more ? ha.
Hora. Not a iot more my lord.
Ham. Is not parchment made of Iheepe-Ikinnes ?
Hora. I my lord, and of calue-Ikinnes too.
' Ham. They are Iheepe and calues which feeke out alTurance
in that, I will fpeake to this fellow. Whofe graue’s this
llrra ?
Clo'oj. Mine fir, or a pit of clay for to be made.
Ham. I thinke it be thine indeede for thou lyefi: in’t.
Clow. You lye out ont fir, and therefore tis not yours ; for
my part I doe not lye in’t, yet it is mine.
Ham. Thou dofi: lye in’t to be in’t and fay it Is thine, tis
for the dead, not for the quicke, therefore thou lyefi.
Clow.T\s a quicke lye fir, twill away againe from me tO)'OU.
Ham. What man dofi thou digge it for ?
. Clow. For no man fir.
Ham^
. Prince of Denmarke,
Ham. What woman then ?
Clow. For none neither.
Ham. Who is to be buried in’t ?
Clo^v. One that was a woman fir, but refi: her foule dice’s
dead.
Ham. How abfolute the knaue is, we mud; fpeake by the
card, or equiuocation will vndoo vs. By the Lord Horatio^
this three 5?eares I haue tooke note of it, the age is growne fo
picked, that the toe of the pefant comes fo neere the heele of
the courtier he galls his kybe.
How long had thou bene a graue-maker
Clo. Of the dayes i’th yeare I came too^t that day that our
lad king Hamlet ouercame Fortinbrajje,
Ham. How long is that fince ?
Clo. Cannot you tell that ? euery foole can tell that, it W'as
that very day that young Hamlet was borne : he that is mad
and fent into England.
Ham. I marry why was he fent into England?
Clow. Why becaufe a was mad : a diall recouer his wits
there, or if a doe not, tis no great matter there.
Ham. Why?
Clow. Twill not be feene in him there, there the ate men
as mad as hee.
Ham. How came he mad ?
Cloiu. Very drangely they fay.
Ham. How drangely ?
Clow. Faith eene with loofng his wits.
Ham. Vpon what ground ?
Clow. Why heere in Denmarke : I haue beene fexton heers
man and boy thirty yeares.
Ham. How long will a man lie i'th earth ere he rot ?
O I
Clow. Faith if a be not rotten before a die, as we haue many
pockie corfes, that will fcarce hold the laying in, a will lad
. VoL. IV. T ^ you
The Tragedy of Hamlet
you fome eight ycare, or nine ycare. A- tanner will laft you
nine yeare.
Ham. Why he more then another ?
Clow. Why fir, his hide is fo tand with his trade, that a
will kecpc out water a great while ; and your water is a fore
decayer of your whorfon dead body, beer’s a fcull now hath
lyen you i’th earth 23. yeares.
Ham. VVhofe was it ?
Cloiv. A whorfon mad fellowes it was, whofe do you think
it was ?
Ham, Nay I know not.
Clow. A pelfilence on him for a mad rogue, a pourd a
flagon of renilh on my head once ; this fame flcull fir, was fir
Toricks fkull’ the kings iefler.
Ham. This ?
Clow. Een that.
Ham. Alas poore Yorlcke^ I knew him Horatio^ a fellow of
infinite iefl, of mofi excelent fancy, hee hath bore me on his
backe a thoufand times, and now how abhorred in my imagi-
nation it is : my gorge rifes at it. Rere hung thofe lyppes
that I haue kift I know not how oft : where be your gibes
now ? your gamboles, your fongs, your flafhes of merriment,
that were wont to fet the table on a roare, nor one now to
mocke your owne grinning, quite chopfalne. Now get you to
my ladies table, and tell her, let her paint an inch thicke, to
this fauour file muft come, make her laugh at that.
Prethee Horatio tell me one thing.
Hora. What’s that my lord ?
Ham, Doofl thou thinke Alexander lookt a this fafliion i’th
heart ?
Hora, Een fo.
Ham, And fmelt fo: pah.
Hora, Een fo my lord.
Ham.
Prince of Denmarke.'
Ham. To what bafe vfcs we may returne Horatio ? why
may not imagination trace the noble dull of Alexander, till a
find it flopping a bunghole ?
'Hora. Twere to confider too curioufly to confider To.
Ham. No faith, not a iot, but to follow him thether with
modeily enough, and likelihood to leade it. Alexander died,
Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth to duff, the dull
is earth, of earth wee make lomc, and why of that lome
whereto he was conuerted, might they not ftoppe a beare-
barrell ?
Imperious Ccefar dead, and turn’d to clay.
Might fioppe a hole, to keepe the wind away.
O that that earth which kept the world in awe.
Should patch a wall t'expell the waters flaw.
Enter King ^lee. Laertes and the corfe^
But foft, but foft a while, here comes the king,
The queene, the courtiers, who is this they follow?
And with fuch maimed rites ? this doth betoken.
The corfe they follow, did with defprat hand
Forcdoo it owne life, twas of feme efliate.
Couch we a while and marke.
Laer, What ceremony elfe ?
Ham. That is Laertes a very noble youth, make
Laer. What ceremony elfe ?
Do5l. Her obfequies haue beene as farre Inlarg’d
As we haue warranty, her death was doubtfull.
And but that great command bre-fwayes the order,
She fhould in ground vnfan(!?cified beene lodg’d
Till the lafl trumpet : for charitable prayers.
Flints and pcebles fliould be throwne on her :
Yet heere flie is allow’d her virgin crants.
* warke.
T 2
Her
The Tragedy of Hamlet
Her maydcn ftrewments, and the bringing home
of bell and buriall.
Laer. Mufl there no more be doone ?
Do6l. No more be doone.
Wc fliould prophane the feruice of the dead,
'I'o fing a requiem and fuch reft to her
As to peace- parted foules.
Laer. Lay her i’th earth,
And from her faire and vnpollutcd flefh
May violets fpring : I tell thee churliQi prieft,
A miniftring angell ftiall my fifter be
When thoi> lyeft howling.
Bam. What, the faire Ophelia.
^lee. Sweets to the fweet, farewell,
I hop’t thou ftiould’ft haue beene my Hamlets wife,
I thought thy bride-bed to haue deckt fweet maide.
And not haue ftrew’d thy graue.
Laer, O trebble woe.
Fall tenne limes double on that curfed head.
Whofe wicked deede thy moft ingenious fence
Depriued theef of, hold off the earth a while.
Till I haue caught her once more in mine armes ;
Now pile your duft vpon the quicke and dead.
Till of this flat a mountaine you haue made
To’retop old PelioUi or the fkyefli head
Of blew Olympus.
Ham. What is he whofe griefe
• Beares fuch an emphafls, whofe phrafe of forrow'
Coniures the wandring ftarres, and makes them ftand
Like wonder wounded hearers \ tis * I
Hamlet the Dane.
Laer. The diuell take thy foule.
• tiu.
Ham.
Prince of Denmarke.’
Ham. Thou pray ’ft not well, I prethee take thy fingers
from my throat.
For though I am not fpleenatuie rafh,
Yet haue I in me fomethiiig dangerous.
Which let thy wifedome feare ; hold off thy hand ?
King. Plucke them a funder.
^lee. Hamlet, Hamlet.
All. Gentlemen.
Hora. Good my lord be quiet.
Ham. Why, I will fight with him vpon this theame ^
Vntill my eyedids will no longer wagge.
^ee. O my fonne, what theame ?
Ham. I lou’d Ophelia : forty thoufand brothers
Could not with all their quantity of loue
Make vp my fumme. What wilt thou doo for her.
King. O he is mad Laertes.
^lee. For loue of God forbeare him.
Ham. S'woimds (hew me what th’out doe :
Woo’t weepe, woo’t fight, woo’t faff, woo’t teare thy felfe,
Woo’t drinke vp Efill, eate a crocadile
lie doo’t : doofl: come heere to whine ?
To out-face me wdth leaping in her graue,
Be buried quicke with her, and fo will I.
And if thou prate of mountaines, let them throw
Millions of acres on vs, till our ground
Sindging his pate againff the burning zone
Make Ojfa like a wart, nay and thou’lt mouth, .
He rant as well as thou.
^lee. This is meere madneffe.
And this a while the fit will worke on him,
Anon as patient as the * female doe f
When that her golden cuplets are difclofed
His filence will fit drooping.
a f doue.
T 3 Ham
I
The Trage0y of Hamlet
Ham. Heare you fir,
What is the reafon that you vfc me thus ?
I lou’d you euer, but it is no matter,
Let Hercules himfelfe doe what he may
The cat will mew, a ’•'dog^e will haue his day.
Exit Hamlet, and Horatio.
Eing. I pray thee good Horatio waite ypon him.
Strengthen your patience in our laft nights fpeech,
Weele put the matter to the prefent pulh :
Good Certrard fet fome watch oucr your fonne.
This graue fhall haue a liuing monument,
An houre of quiet thereby fliall we fee
Tell then in patience our proceeding be. Exeunt,
Enter Hamlet and Horatio.
Ham. So much for this fir, now fliall you fee the other.
You doe remember all the circumflance.
Hor. Remember it my lord. -
Ham. Sir in my heart there was a kind of fighting
That would not let me fleepe, me thought I lay
Worfe then the mutines in the bilbo’s, raflily.
And prayfd be raflines for it : let vs know,
Our indiferetion fometime femes vs well
When our deepe plots doe fall, and that fliould learne vs
' Ther’s a diuinity that fhapes our ends,
Rough hew them how we will.
Hora, That is mofl certaine.
Ham. Vp from my cabin.
My fea gowne fcarft about me in the darke
Gropt I to find out them, had my defirc,
Fingard their packet, and in fine with drew
To mine owne roome againe, making fo bold
* nr.d.
My
Prince of Denmarke.
My feares forgetting manners to vnfold
Their graund commifTion ; where I found Horatio
A^royall knauery, an exadt command
Larded with many feiierall forts of reafons,
Importing Denmarkes health, and Englands to,
With hoe fuch bngges and goblins in my life,
That on the fuperuife no leafure bated,
No not to flay the grinding of the axe.
My head fliould be flrooke off.
Hora. rft poflible ?
Ham. Heeres the commifTion, read it at more leafure,
But wilt thou heare now how I did proceed.
Hora. Ibefeechyou.
Ham. Being thus be-netted round with villaines,
Or I could make a prologue to my braines.
They had begunne the play, I fat me downe,
Deuifd a new commiflion, wrote it faire,
I once did hold it as our Batifls doe
A bafenefTe to write faire, and labourd much
Howto forget that learning, but fir now
It did me yemans feruice, wilt thou know
Th cffecf of what I wrote ?
Hora. I good my lord.
Ham. An earned coniuration from the king,
As England was his faithful tributary.
As Icue betweene them like the palme might florifli.
As peace fliould flill her wheaten garland weare
And Band a comma tweene their amities,
And many fuch like, as fir of great charge.
That on the view, and knov/ing of thefe contents.
Without debatement further more or leffe,
He fliould thofe bearers put to fuddaine death.
Not fliriuing time alow’d.
' Hora. How was this fcald ?
The Tragedy of Hamlet
Ham. Why euen in that was heaucn ordinant,
I had my fathers fignet in my purfe
Which was the model of that Danijh feale,
Folded the writ vp in the forme of th’ other,
Subferib'd* it, gau’t th’ impreffion, plac’d it fafely.
The changling ncuer knowne : now the next day
Was our fea-fight, and what to this was fequent
Thou knoweft already.
Hora. So Guyldenjiernc and Rofencraus goc too’t.
Ham. They are not neere my confciencc ; their defeat
Dooes by their owne infinution growe,
Tis dangerous when the bafer nature comes
Betweene the paffe and fell incenced poynts
Of mighty oppofits.
Hora. Why what a king is this !
Ham. Dooes it not thinke thee (land me now vppon ?
Hee that hath kild my king,’ and whor'd my mother,
Pop’t in betweene the election and my hopes,
Throwae out his angle tor my proper life.
And with fuch cofnage, i’ll pot perfect confciencc ?
Enter a courtier.
Cour. Your lordfhippe is right welcome backe to Denmarke.
Ham. I humbly thankc you hr.
Do'j’il: know this water-fiy ?
Hora. No my good lord.
Ham. Thy flate is the mere gratious, for tis a vice to know
him. He hath much land and fertill: let a beall be lord of
beafts, and his crib fhall hand at the kings melfe, tis a chough,
but as I fay, fpacious in the polTehion of durt.
• Cour. Sweet lord, if your lordlliippe were at leafure, I fliould
import a thing to you from his maiehy.
* J'utfcnbe.
Hani.
Prince of Denmarke.
Ham. I will receiue it fir with all dilligence of fpirrit, your
bonnet to his right vfe, tis for the head.
Cour. I thanke your lordfhip, it is very hot.
Ham. No beleeue me, tis very cold, the wind is northerly.
Cour. It is indifferent cold my lord indeed.
Hain. But yet me thinkes it is veryyiz////^ * and hot, or
my complexion.
Cour, Exceedingly my lord, it is very foultry, as t’were I
cannot tell how : my lord his maiefly bad me.fignifie to you,
that a has layed a great wager on your head, fir this is the
matter.
Ham. I befeech you remember.
Cou. Nay good my lord for my eafe in good faith, fir here
is newly come to court Laertes, beleeue me an abfolute gen-
tlema, full of mofl excellent differences, of very foft fociet}^
and great fliowing : indeede to feelingly 1 of him, he is
the card or kalendar of gentry : for you fl'jall Hnde in him the
continent of what part a gentleman would fee.
Ham. Sir, his definement fuffers no perdition in you, though
I know to devide him inuentorially, would dizzie th’ arithme-
ticke of memory, and yet but raw neither, in refpecd: of his
quick fade, but in the verity of extolment, I take him to be a
foule of greate article, and his infufion of fiich dearth and rare-
neffe, 'ns f to make true dixion of him, his femblable is his
mirrour, and who els would trace him, his vmbrage, nothing
more.
Cour. Your lordfhip fpeakes mofi infallibly of him.
Ham. The concernancy fir, why do wee wrap the gentleman
in our more rawer breath ?
Cour. Sir.
Hora. Ift not poffible to vnderfland in another tongue, you
\vill doo’t fir really.
Ham. What imports the nomination of this gentleman f*
f MS
1
The Tragedy of Hamlet
/
Cour. Of Laertes,
flora. His purfe is empty already, all’s golden words arc
fpent.
flam. Of him fir.
Cour. I know you arc not ignorant.
Ham. I would you did fir, yet in fayth if you did, it would
not much approoue me, well fir.
Cour. You are f ignorant of what excellence Laertes is.
Ham. I dare not confelTe that, leaft I fhould compaVe with
him in excellence, but to know a man well, were to know
himfelfe.
Cour. I meane fir for this weapon, but in the imputation
layd on him by them in his meed, hee’s vnfellowed.
Ham. What’s his weapon ?
. Cour. Rapiar and dagger.
Ham. That’s two of his weapons, but well.
Cour. The king fir hath wagerd with him fix Barbary
horfes againfl: the which he has impaund as I take it fix French
rapiers and poynards, with their afiignes, as girdle, hanger
and fo. Three of the cariages in faith, are very deare to fancy,
very rerponfiue to the hilts, moll dilicate carriages, and of very
llberall conceit.
Ham. What call you the carriages ?
Flora. I knew you muft be edified by the margent ere you
had done.
Cour. The carriage fir are the hangers.
Ham. The phrafe would be more german to the matter if
wee could carry a cannon by our Tides, I would it might be
hangers till then, but on, 'fix Barbary horfes againfl fix French
fwords their aflignes, and three liberall conceited carriages,
that’s the French bet againfl the Danijb^ why is this all you
call it ?
Cour. The king fir, hath laid fir, that in a dozen pafTes be-
are not,
tweene
J
Prince of Denmarke."
tweene yonr felfe and him, hee fnall nor exceede yon three hits,
hee hath layd on twelne for nine, and it would come to im-
mediate tryall, if your lordlhippe would vouchmfe the an-
fwerc.
Ham, How iflanfwere no ?
Cour, I mcane my lord the oppofitlon of your perfon In
tryall.
Ham. Sir I will walke heere In the hall. If it pleafe his ma-
iefly, it is the breathing time of day with mee, let the foyles
be brought, the gentleman willinge, and the kinge hold his
purpofe ; I will winne for him and I can, if not I will gaine
nothing but my fhamc, and the odde hits.
Coiir. Shall I deliuer you fo ?
Ham. To this effecl fir, after what florlHi your nature will,
Cour. I (Commend my duty to your lordfliippe.
Ham.Yom-s doo’s well to commend it himfelfe, there are no
tongues els for’s turne.
Hora. This lapwing runnes away with the fhell on his head.
Ham. A did fo fir with his dugge before a fuckt it, thus
has he and many more of the fame breede that I know the
droffy age dotes on, onely got the tune of the time, and out of
an habit of Incounter, a kind of collection, which car-
ryes them through and through the mod: prophane'and trcn-
nowned t opinions, and do but bio we them to their tryall, the
jjubbles are out.
Enter a lord.
Lord. My lord his maiefty commended him to you by
younge OJiricke, who brings backe to 'him that you attend
him in the hall, hee fends to know if your pleafure hold to
play with Laertes, or that you will take longer time ?
Ham. I am conftant to my pm pofes, they follow the kings
pleafure, if his fitnes (peakes, mine is ready : now or when-
foeuer, prouided I be fo able as now.
* trenn'meJ,
Lord.
The Tragedy of Hamlet
Lord. The king and quccnc and all are comming downe.
Ham. In happy time.
Lord. Thcquecne defircs you to vfe fome gentle entertain-
ment to Laertes y before you goe J to play.
Ham. Shec well inffriufts me.
Hora. You will loofe my lord.
Ham. I doe not thinke fo, fince hee went into France, I hauc
bin in continuall praftife, I fliall winne at the ods ; thou
would’ft not thinke how ill all’s heere about my heart, but it
is no matter.
Hora. Nay good my lord.
Ham. lt is but foolery, but it is fuch a kind of game-giuing,
as would perhaps trouble a woman.
Hora. If your mind diflike any thing, obay it. I will fore-
Aall their repair hether and fay you are not fit.
Ham. Not a whit we defie augury, there is fpeciall proui-
dence in the fall of a fparrowe, if it be, tis not to come, if it
bee not to come, it will be now, if it bee not now, yet it will
come, the readines is all, fince no man of ought hee leaues,
knowes what ill to leaue betimes, let bee.
A table prepard, trumpets, drums and officers with cvJJjions,
King, Queene, and all the Jlate, folks y daggers, and
Laertes.
King. Come Hamlet, come and take this hand from me.
Ham. Giue me your pardon fir, I haue done you wrong.
But pardon’t as you are a gentleman, this prefence knowes.
And you muft needs haue heard, how I am punilht
With a fore diftra6lion : what I haue done
That might your nature, honor, and exception
Roughly awake I heere proclaime was madnes.
Waft Hamlet wronged Laertes P neuer Hamlet,
Jf Hamlet from himfelfe be tane away,
♦ klU
And
' Prince of DenmarkeJ
And when hee’s not himfelfe, doo s wrong Laertes,
Then Hamlet doo's it not, Hamlet denies it.
Who dooes it then ? his madnes. Ift be fo,
Hamlet is of the faftion that is wronged.
His madnefle is poore Hamlets enemie,
Let my difclaiming from a purpos’d euill.
Free mee fo farre in your moll: generous thoughts
That I haue ihot my arrowe ore the houfe
And hurt my brother.
Laer. I am fatisfied in nature,
Whofe motiue in this cafe fliould flirre me moll:
To my reuendge, but in my tearmes of honor
I ftand a loofe, and will no- reconcilement.
Till by fome elder maifters of knowne honor
I haue a voyce and prefident of peace
To my name vngor’d : but all that time
I doe receiue your ofFerd lone, like loue,
And will not wrong it.
Ham. I embrace it freely, and will this brothers
franckly play.
Giue vs the foiles.
Laer. Come, one for me.
Ham, He be your foile Laertes, In mine Ignorance
Your fklll fhall like a flarre i’th darkeft night
Stick fiery of indeed.
Laer. You mocke me fir.
Ham. No by this' hand.
Kmg. Giue them the foiles young OJlricke, cofin Ham.
You know the wager.
Ham. Very well my lord.
Your grace has layde the ods a’th weaker fide.
King. I do not feare it, I haue feene you both.
But fince he is better, we haue therefore ods.
* UamUt.
The Tragedy of Hamlet
Lacr. This is toheany : let me fee another.
Ham. This likes me well, thefe toiles hauc all a length.
OJir. I my good lord.
King. Set me the ftoopes of wine vpon the table.
If Hamlet giue the firfl or fecond hit,
Or quit In anfwer of the third exchange.
Let all the battlements their ordnance fire.
The king Ihall di inke to Hamlets better breath,
And in the cup an onixe (hall he throw,
Richer then that which foure fucccfiiue kings
In Denmarkes crowne haue worne : giue me the cups,
And let the kettle to the trumpet fpeake.
The trumpet to the cannoneere without.
The cannons to the heauens, the heauens to earth.
Now the king drinkes to Hamlet ^ come begin ne.
Trumpets the 'while*
And you the iudges beare a wary eye.
Ham. Come on fir.
Laer. Come my lord.
Ham. One.
Laer. No.
Ham. ludgement.
OJir. A hit, a very palpable hit.
Drum, trumpets and Jlyj,
Laer. Well, againe.
FloriPj, a piece goes off*
King. Stay, giue me drinke, Hamlet this pearle is thine.
Heeres to thy health, giue him the cup.
Ham. He play this bout firll, fet it by a while
Come, another hit.
What fay you ?
Laer. I doe confeft.
^ King. Our fonne fhall winne.
Prince of Denmarke,
^ice. Hce’s fat and fcant of breath.
Heere Hamlet take my napkin rub thy browes,
The queene carowfes to thy fortune Hamlet,
Ham. Good madam.
King, Gertrard, doe not drinke,
^lee, I will my lord, I pray you pardon me.
King. It is the poyfned cup, it is too late.
Ham. I dare not drinke yet madam, by and by.
^lee. Come, let me wipe thy face.
Laer. My lord. He hit him now.
King. I doe not think’t.
Laer. And yet it is almofl again (1 my confcience.
Ham, Com for the third Laertes, you doe but dally.
I pray you palTe with your befr violence
I am fure you make a wanton of me.
Laer. S:-iy you fo come on.
OJir. Nothing neither way.
Laer. Haue at you now.
King. Part them, they are incenfl.
Ham. Nay come againe.
Ojlr, Looke to the queene there hoe.
Hora. They bleed on both Tides, how is It my lord ?
OJlr. Hoft ifi: Laeres ?
Laer, Why as a woodcock to mine owne fpringde. OJlrlck
I am iuftly kild with mine owne treachery.
Ham. How does the queene ?
' King. She founds to fee them bleed.
^lee. No, no, the drink, the drinke, O my deare Ham-
let!
The drinke, the drinke, I am poyfned.
Ham'. O villanie*! hoe let the dore be lock’t.
Treachery, fecke it out.
* •villalnt.
In
I
Th£ Tragedy of Hamlet
tacr. It is heere Hamlet ^ thou art flainc,
Ko medcin iu the world can do thee good,'
In thee there Is not halfe an lioures life,
The treacherous inftrument is in my hand
Vnbated and enuenom’d, the foule pra^Hfe
Hath turn’d it felfe on me, loe here I lye
Neuer to rife againe : thy mother’s poyfned,
I can * no inore, the king, the kings too blame.
Ham. The point enuenom’d to, then venom to thy worker
j4lL Treafon, treafon.
King O yet defend me fiiends, I am but hurt.
Ha7n. Here thou Inceftious damned Dane,
Drinkc of this potion, is the onixe heere I
Follow my mother.
Lacr. He is iuflly ferued, it is a poyfon temperd by him-
fefe.
Exchange forgiuenes with me noble Hamlet,
Mine and my lathei s death come not vppon thee.
Nor thine on me.
Ham. Heauen make thee free of it, I follow thee ;
I am dead Horatio, wrctclicd qiieene adiew.
You that looke pale and tremble at this chance.
That are but mutes, or audience to this a6l,
Had I but time as this fell fergeant death
Is Ariel in his arreA. O I could tell you !
But let it be ; Horatio I am dead,
Thou liueA, report me and my caufe aright
To the vnfatisfied.
Hora. Neuer beleeuc it ;
I am more an an tike R.omane then a Dane,
Heere’s yet feme liquor left.
Ham. As th’art a man,
Giue me the cup, ^ let goe, by heauen He hate,
* am.
O Cod
Prince of Denmarke:
0 God Horatio ! what a wounded name
Things {landing thus vnknowne, (hall I leaue behind me ?
If thou didfl euer hold me in thy heart,
Abfent thee from felicity a while,
And in this harfli world draw thy breath in paine
A march a farre oj^.
To tell my flory ; what warlike noife is this ?
Enter Oflrick.
Ofr. YonngFortinbraJ[evA.\h conquefl: come from Pohn^\
-Th th’embalTadors of England glues this warlike volly.
Ham, O I die Horatio,
The potent poyfon quite ore-growes my fpirit,
1 cannot line to heare the newes from England*
But I do prophefie the eleflion lights
On FortinbraJJe, he has my- dying voyce.
To tell him with th’ occurants more and lefle
Which haue folicited, the reil is filence.
Hlra, Now cracks a noble heart, good night fweet prince^’
And flights of angels flnge thee to thy refl.
Why dooes the drumme come hether ?
Enter Fortinbrafle, ^ivith the embajfadors,
Fortin, Where is this fight ?
Hora. What is it you would fee ?
If ought of woe, or wonder, ceafe your fearch
Fortin. This quarry cries on hauock, O proud death
What feafl: is toward in thine eternall cell.
That thou fo many princes at a fliot
Sobloudily haft ftrooke ?
Emhaf. The fight is difmall
VoL. IV
U
-And
The Tragedy of Hamlet
And our affaires from England come too late,
The cares are fcnceleffe that ihould glue. us hearing,
To tell him his commandement is fulfilld,
That Rofencraus and Guyldenjlirne are dead,
Where (hould wee haue our thankes ?
Hora. Not from his mouth
Had it ih’ ability of life to thanke you ;
He neuer gaue commandement for their death ;
But fjnee fo iump vpon this bloody queffion
* You from the Pollock warres, and you from England
Arc heere arriued, giue order that thefe bodies
High on a ffage be placed to the view,
And let tnee fpeake, to the yet vnknowing world
How thefe things came about ; fo fliall you heare
Of cruel], bloody and vnnaturall a^fs.
Of accidental! iudgements, cafiiall {laughters.
Of deaths put on by cunning, and for no caufe,
And in this vplhot, purpofes miflooke,
Falne on the inuenters heads : all this can I
Truely deliuer.
Fort. Let vs haff: to heare it.
And call the noblefl to the audience.
For me with forrow I embrace my fortune,
I haue fome rights of memory in this kingdome.
Which now to claime my vantage doth inuite me.
Hora. Of that I Ihall haue alfo caufe to fpeake.
And from his mouth, whofe voyce will draw no more,
I^ut let this fame be prefently perform’d
Eucn while mens mindes are wilde, kail more mifchance
On plots and errors happen.
Fort. Let foure captaines
* My fifil copy was iirperfefl from this place.
* Beare
/
Prince of Denmarke.
Beare Hamlet like a fouldier to the ftage.
For he was likely, had he beene put on.
To haue prooued moft royall ; and for his pafTage^’
The fouldiers mufique and the right of warre
Speake loudly for him :
Take yp the bodies, fuch a fight as this.
Becomes the field, but heere fhowes much amifTe.
Go bid the fouldiers fhootei
Exeunt.
ff I N I S.
I
XJ 2
THE
T R A G OE D Y
O F
OTHELLO,
THE
Moore ofVENiCEt
As it hath beene diuerfe times afted at the Globe^ and
at the Black'Frkrs, by his Maiefties Seruants,
WRITTEN BY
♦
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.
LONDON,
Printed by M 0. for ’Thomas Walkley, and are to be fold at b
, ftiop, at the Eagle and Child, in Brittans BnrlTe. i62Z _
This Copy has been collated with another
r .• printed in 1630.- i' have likewife an Edi-
, tion publillied by William Leake in ,1655,
but it feems to be no more than a repub-
lication of the^ foregoing one.
THE
STAT IONER
T O T H E
READER:
TO fet forth a booke without an Epiftlc, were
like to the old Englijh prouerbe, A blew coat
without a hadge^ and the author being dead, I thought
good to take that piece of worke vpon mee : to com-
mend it, I will not, for that which is good, I hope
euery man will commend, without intreaty : and I am
the bolder, becaufe the authors name is fudicient to
vent his worke. Thus leaning euery one to the li-
berty of iudgement : I haue ventered to print this
play, and leaue it to the generall cenfure.
Tours^
THOMAS WALKLEY.
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THE
tragedy
O F
OTHELLO
THE
MOORE of VENICE.
' Enter lago and Roderigo.
✓
Roderigo.
TV S H, neuer tell me, I take it much vnkiadly
Tkat you l^go^ vjho has * had my purfe.
As if the firings were thine, fhould’fl know of this.
lag. S' bloody but you will f not heare me.
If euer I did dreame of fiich a matter, abhorre me.
Rod. Thou toldfl me, thou didfl hold him in thy hate.
lag. Defpife me if I doe not : three great ones of the citty
In perfonall fuite to make me his leiutenant.
Oft capt to him, and by the faith of man,
I know my pric.e, I am worth no worfe a place.
But he, as louing his owne pride and purpofes,
Euades them, with a bumbafl circumflance.
Horribly fluft with epithites of warre :
And in conclufton
f lhat tboil %vbo baj}, •J' But y ok' le» omitted.
Non-fuits
The Tragedy of Othello
Non-fults my mediators : for certes, fayes he,
I have already chofea my officer, and what was he ?
Forfooth, a great arithmetition.
One Michael CaJfiOy a Florentine^
A fellow almofl: dambd in a faire wife.
That neuer fet a fquadron in the field.
Nor the deuifion of a battle knowes.
More then a fpinfier, vnleffie the bookiffi thcorique.
Wherein the toged* confuls can propofe
As mafierly as he : mecre prattle without praeftife.
Is all his fouldier-ffiippe : but he fir had the eledfion.
And I, of whom his 'eyes had feene the proofe.
At Rhodes^ at Cipres, and on other grounds.
Chrijiian f and heathen, muff be led J, and calm’d.
By debitor and creditor, this counter-cafier :
He in good time, muft his leiutenant be.
And I, God bleffe the marke, his vjorjhips § ancient.
Rod. By heauen I rather would haue bin his hangman.
Id. But there’s no remedy,
Tis the curfe of feruice.
Preferment goes by letter and affedflon,
Not by the olde gradation, where each fecond
Stood heire to the firfi :
Now fir be iudge yourfelfe,
Whether I, in any iufi: tearme am ajjign'd J
To lone the Moore.
Rod. I would not follow him then.
la. O fir, consent you,
I follow him to feme my turne vpon him,
We cannot be all mafiers, nor all maflers
Cannot be truely followed, you ffiall marke.
Many a duiious and knee-crooking knaue,
* torgutd. *}“ Cbrijiend, J b(-ked^ § MtQreJhipit (] aRind.
That
/
THE Moore of Venice.
That doting on his owne obfequlous bondage,
Weares out his time much like his makers afie,
For noughe but prouendcr, and when hee’s old cafhierd.
Whip mee fuch honefl knaues :
Others there arc, who trimd in formes,
And vlflages of duty, keepe yet their hearts.
Attending on themfelues, and throwing
But fhewes of feruice on their lords.
Doe well thriue by ’em,
And when they haue lin’d their coates.
Doe themfelues homage,
Thofe fellowes haue fome foule.
And fuch a one doe I profeffe myfelfe, — for fir,
It is as fure as you are Roderigo,
Were I the Moore, I would not be lago :
In following him, I follow but my feife.
Heauen is my iudge, not I,
For loue and duty, but feeming fo.
For my peculiar end.
For when iny outward aflion does demonflrate
The natiue aft, and figure of my heart.
In complement externe. tis not long after.
But I will weare my heart vpon my fleeue.
For doues to pecke at,
I am not what I arn.
Rod. What a full fortune does the thickllps owe,
If he can carry’et thus ?
la. Call vp her father,
Rowfe him, make after him, poyfon his delight,
Proclaime him in the ftreete, incenfe her kinfmen,
And tho he in a fertile climate dwell.
Plague him with flyes : tho that his ioy be ioy.
Yet throw fuch changes of vexation out.
As It may loofe fome colour.
The Tragedy of Othello
l\od. Here is her fathers houfe, He call aloud.
Id. Doe with like timerous accent, and dire yell.
As when by night and negligence, the fire
is r/ieJ in populous citties.
Rod. What ho, Brabantio, {^\gn\ov Brabant io, ho,
I'f. Awake, what ho, Brabantioy
Theeues, theeues, theeues :
Looke to your houfe, you daughter, and your bags,
Theeues, theeues.
• Brabantio at a window.
Brab. What is the reafon of this terrible fummons ?
What is the matter there ?
Rod. Seignior, is all your family within ?
la. Are all doore lockts * ?
Brab. Why, wherefore afke you this ?
lag. Zounds f fir you are robd, for fhame put on your
gowne.
Your heart is burff, you haue lofl: halfe your foule ;
Euen now, very now, an old blacke ram
Is tupping your white ewe ; arife, arife.
Awake the fnorting citizens with the bell,
Or elfe the diuell will make a grandfire of you, arife I fay.
Brab. What, haue you loft your wits ?
Rod. Moll: reuerend feignior, doe you know my voyce ?
Bra. Not I, what are you t
Rod. My name is Roderigo:
Bra. The worfe welcome,
I haue charg’d thee, not to haunt about my dores,
In honefl plainenefTe, thou haft heard me fay
My daughter is not for thee, and now in madnes.
Being full of fupper, and diftempering draughts,
your doirs lock'd. f Zounds omitted,
Vpoii
THE Moore of Venice;
Vpon malicious brauer'y, doll: thou come
To Hart my quiet ?
Rod, Sir, lir, fir.
Bra, But thou mull needes be fure
My fpirit and my place haue in them power.
To make this bitter to thee.
Rod, Patience good fir.
Bra, What tell’il: thou me of robbing ? this is Venice^
My houfe is not a graunge.
Rod, MoH graue Brabantio,
In fimple and pure foulc I come to you.
lag, Zouns fir, you are one of thofe, that will not ferue
God if the deulll bid you. Becaufe we come to doe you fer-
uice, you thinke we are ruffians, youle haue your daughter
couered with a Barbary horfe ; youle haue your nephewes ney
to you ; youle haue courfers for coufens, and iennits for
iermans.
Bra, What prophane wretch art thou ?
lag, I am one fir, that come to tell you, your daughter,
and the Moore, are now making the beall with two backs.
Bra, Thou art a villaine.
lag. You are a fenator.
Bra. This thou lhalt anfwer, I knov/ thee Roderigo,
Rod, Sir I will anfwer any thing : but I befeech you f.
If
♦ Zouns Jlr,
'j- IRt be your pha^ure^ end mofi •wife confenty
( As partly I find it h) that your fain daughter
At this od everij and dull wateb otb' nighty
T ranjported nioitb no ivorje nor better guard
iBut ’with a knaue of common hirty a Gundeller
*To the grojfe clafpes of a lafeivtous h^oore :
If this be kno’wne to you and your allowance y
We then haue done you bold and fawey ’wrongs ?
But if you kno’w not this, my manners tell mSy
We have your ’wrong rebuke ; do not beleeue
^hat from the fenje of al cmlitie
The Tragedy of Othello
If Hie be in her chamber, or your houfe.
Let loofc on me the iufbcc of the flate,
For this delufion,
Bra. Strike on the tinder, ho :
Giue me a taper, call vp all my people i
This accident is not vnlike my dreame,
Feleefe of it opprelFes me already :
Light I fay, light.
lag. Farewell, for I mufl: leaue you,
It feemes not meete, nor wholefome to my pate,
To be produc’d, as if I Aay I Pnall
Againfl the Moore, for I doe know the ffate,
• Now euer this may gaule him with fome checke,
Cannot with fafety call: him, for hee’s imbark’d.
With fuch loud reafon, to the Cipres warres.
Which euen now Hands in afl, that for their foules.
Another of his fathome, they haue not
To leade their bufinefTe, in which regard,
Tho I doe hate him, as I doe hells paines,
Yet for neceffity of prefent life,
I muH fhew out a flag, and flgne of loue,
Which is indeed but flgne, that you fliall furely
Finde him : lead to the Sagittar f, the raifed fearch,
And there will I be with him. So farewell. Exit,
0
' J thus ’zveuM play and tnjle zvlthyour reuerence.
Your daughter {If you haue not giuen her leaue,
I fay agalne] hath trade a grojje reuolt.
Yying her duty, beauty nv'it ami fortunes.
In an extrauagant and ’ivheedling Jlrar.ger,
Cf I e: e, and euery ivhcre : ftraight Jatisfie your felf j
It {he be, Sec.
Thefe lines are wanting in the edition cf 1622. and are printed from tha^
'in 1630.
'j- Sagittary,
Enter
THE Moore of Venice, •
Enter Barb ant io\ in his night gowne, andferttants ivlth torches.
Bra, It is too true an euill, gone (he is.
And what’s to come, of my defpifed time.
Is nought but bitternefTe, now linderigo, *
Where didlt thou fee her ; O vnhappy girle,
With the Moore faifl thou ? who would be a father ?
How didft thou know twas fne ? O thcAi deceiueji § me
Paft thought : what'faid fire to you ? get more tapers,
Raife all my kindred, are they married thinke you ?
Rod. Truely I thinke they are.
Bra. O heauen, how got die out ? O treafon of the blood;
Fathers from hence, truft not your daughters mindes.
By what you fee them act ; is there not charmes.
By which the property of youth and manhood
May be abus’d \ haue you not read Rodcrigo,
Of fome fuch thing. , '
Rod. I haue fir
. Bra. Call vp ray brother ; O that | you had had her.
Some one way, fome another ; doe you know
Where we may apprehend her, and the Moore ?
Rod. I thinke I can difcouer him, if you pleafe
To get good guard, and goe along with me.
Bra. Pray bade ms on f, at euery houfe He call,
I may command at mofl : get weapons ho,
And raife fome fpeciall officers of night ± ;
On good Roderigo, He deferue your paines. Exeunt.
, Enter Othello, lago, a7id attendants with torches.
la. Tho in the trade of warre, I haue flaine men,
Yet 'doe I hold it fruft of jj confcience.
1} Brabantio. \ foe (^eceivti, * T'esfrj I have Indeed. ^ ivould.
f you lezd on. ;{; inight. jj fufe o'th.
To
The Tragedy of Othello
To doe no contriu*d murther ; I lacke Iniquity
Sometimes to doe me feruice : nine or ten. times,
I had thought to haue lerk’d him here,
Vnder the ribbes.
0th. Tis better as It Is.
lag. Nay, but he prated.
And fpoke fuch fciiruy, and prouoking tearmes
Againft your honor, that with the little godliuefTe I haue,
I did full hard forbeare him : but I pray fir,
Are you faft married ? for be fure of this.
That the magnifico Is much beloued.
And hath in his efFe(5f, a voyce potentiall.
As double as the dukes, he will diuorce you.
Or put vponyou what reflraint, and greeuance,
nat * law with all his might to inforce it on, .
Weele giue him cable.
Oih. Let him doe his fpite.
My feruices which I haue done the feigniorle.
Shall out tongue his complaints, tis yet to know, f
That boafling is an honour,
rihall -^rovulgate -|-, I fetch my life and being,
From men of royall height, and my demerrits.
May fpeake vnbonnited to J as proud a fortune
As this that I haue reach’d ; for know lago,
But that I loue the gentle De/demona,
I would not, my vnhoufed free condition.
Put into circumfcription and confine
For the feas worth,
But looke what lights come yonder.
Enter CafTio with lights^ officers, and torches.
la. Thefe are the raifed father and his friends.
You were beftgoe in.
* ^he. 'f- ^iuhick when 1 know.
^ fremulgate. to emitted.
THE Mgore of Venice; ■
0th. Not I, I muH: be found, ^
My parts, my tide, and my perfecft foule.
Shall manifeft me rightly |j ; it is they.
la. By lanus I thinke no.-
0th. The feruants of the duke, and fny lieutenant^
The goodnefle of the night your friends §,
What is the neweSi
Caf. The duke does greete you generall,
And he requires your hall, poft hafl appearance,
Euen on the inflanr.
0th. Whats the matter thinke you :
Caf. Something from Cipres, as I may diulne,
It is a bufinefTe of fome heate, the galleyes
Haue fent a dozen frequent * meffengers
This very night, at one -j- anothers heeles :
And many of the confuls rais’d, and met.
Are at the dukes already ; you haue bin hotly cald for,
When being not at your lodging to be found,
The fenate fent aboue three feuerali quells
Tofearch you out.
Othe. Tis well I am found by yon,
lie f fpend a word here in the houfe, and gee with you.
Caf. Aiincient, what makes he here ?
la. Faith he to night, hath boorded a land carrick t;
If it proue lawful! prize, hee’s made for euer.
Caf. I doe not vnderfland.
Ja. Hee’s married.
Caf To '■jjho *'§
Enters Brabantio, Roderigo, and others 'with lights and
•weapons.
la. Marry to. Come captaine, will you goe ?
0th. Huy with who P
11 myri^bthy. ^ you 'f, ends ] * fejuenf. pne at.
J carria^. ’ivhom. * j" •ivTth\ou.
Voi.. IV. X
•f / nx-ill hut.
The Tragedy of Othello
Caf. Here comes another troupe to feeke for you. -
la. It is Brabantio, generall be aduirde,
He comes to bad intent.
^Oth. Holla, ftand there.
Rod. Seignior, it is the Moore.
Bra. Downe with him theife.
la. You RoderigOy come fir, I am for you.
0th. Keepe vp your bright fwords, for the dew will ruft
em.
Good feignior you fliall more command with yeares
Then with your weapons.
Bra. O thou foule theefe, where haft thou ftowed my
daughter ?
Dambd as thou art, thou haft inchanted her.
For He referre me to all thing * of fenfe, -j-
Whether a maide fo tender, faire, and happy.
So oppdfite to marriage, that (he ftiund
The wealthy curled darlings of our nation.
Would euer haue (to incurrea general mocke)
Runne from her gardage to the footy bofome
Of fuch a thing as thou ? to feare, not to delight, f
Such t an abufer ol the world, a praflifer
Of arts inhibited, and out of warrant ?
Lay hold vpon him, if he doe reftft.
Subdue him at his perill.
0th. Hold your hands:
Both you of my inclining, and the reft,,
* things.
4- (If in chaints of tnagick were not hound) From the Edit. In 1630*
-f- Judge ms the world, if t'is no grojfe in fenfe,
*Tbat thou hafpraEiis'd on her with fsu!e charmes,
Ahus d her dehcate youth with drugs or minerals
*That weakens motion : He han.e't difputed $n
^is portable and palpable to thinking :
1 therefore apprehend and doe attach ihct. From the Edit, 1630.
J For,
Were
THE Moore of VeniceT
Were It my qu J. to fight, I fiiould haue knowne it, .
Without a prompter, where wiJl you that I goe,
And § anfwer this your' charge ?
Bra, To prlfon till fit time
Of law, and courfs of diredl felfion,
Call thee to anfwer.
0th. What if I doe obey,
How may the duke be therewith fatisfied,
Whofe mefiengers are heere about my fide,
Vpon fome prefent bufineiTe of the ftate.
To beare me to him.
Officer. Tis true moft worthy feignior.
The duke’s in counceil, and your noble felfe,
I am fure is fent for.
Bra. How ? the duke in conncell ?
In this time of the night ? bring him away.
Mine’s not an idle canfe, the duke himfelfe.
Or any of my brothers of the ftate,
Cannot but feele this wrong, as twere their owne.
For If fuch a<51:ions, may haue paiTage free,
Bondflaues, and Pagans, fiial our ftatefmen be. Exeunt,
Enter duke and fenators, Jet at a table ivith lights and
attendants.
Duke. There Is no compofition in thefe newes,
That glues them credit.
1 Sena. Indeede they are difproportioned.
My letters fay, a hundred and feucn gallies.
Du. And mine a hundred and forty.
2 Sena. And mine two hundred :
Bat though they iumpe not on a infi account.
As in thefe cafes, where they aymld * reports,
Tis oft with difference, yet doe they all confirme
hsTurkiJh fleete, and bearing vp to Cipreffie,
II cue. § To. * ayms,
X 2 Du
ayms.
The Tragedy of Othello
Du. Nay, it is pofTible enough to iudgcment ;
I doe not fo fecurc me to the error,
But the mayne articles 4- I doe approue
in fearefull fenfe.
Enter a me Jf eager.
O'ne within. What ho, what ho, what ho
Sailor. A meflenger from the galley,
Du. Now, the bufineflc ?
Sailor. The TiirkifJj preparation makes for Rhodes,
So was I bid report here, to the Bate, f
Du. How fay you by this change ?
I Se7ia. This cannot be by no aflay of reafon —
Tis a pageant.
To keepe vs in falfe gaze : when we confider
The importancy of Cyprejfe to the Turke :
And let our felues againe, but vnderfland.
That as it more concernes the Turke then Rhodes,
So may he with more facile queftion beare it. J
Du. And 11 in all confidence, hee’s not for Rhodes,
0£icer. Here is more newes.
Enter a 2. mejfenger.
Mef. Thi Ottamites, reuerend and gracious.
Steering with due courfe toward the ifle of Rhodes,
Haue there inioynted with an after fleete §
4- Article.
•)■ By Signor Angelo.
J For that it fiandi not in fucb ‘ivarlike brace,
Who altogether lacks ti' abilities
That Rhodes is drejl in : if •we make nought of ibis.
We muji not tbinke the T urke is fo unjkilfull.
To leave that lateji ivbicb concernes him firji j
iSegleEiing an attempt of eafe and gaine,
To wake and wage a danger profilejj'e. Edit. 1630.
I!
§ \ Sena. I , fo I thought , how mar.'f, asyou guejct
Mejf, Of ^ofaile, &c. Edit. 1630,
Of
THE Moore of Venice.'
Of 30. faile, and now they doe rejierine *
Their backward courfe, bearing with franke appearance
Their purpofes towards CypreJJ'e : feignior Montano,
Your trufty and moil valiant feruitor.
With his free duty recommends you thus,
And prayes you to beleeue him.
Du. Tis certaine then for Cypreffe^
Marcus Luccicos is not here 4- in towne.
Sena. Hee’s now in Florence.
Du. Write from vs, 'ivijh f him port, poft haft difpatch.
Enter Brabantio, Othello, Roderigo, lago, Caftio, Defdemona
and ojjicers.
I Sena. Here comes Brabantio and the valiant Moore.
Du. Valiant Othello, we muft ftraite imploy you,
Againft the generall enemy Ottaman ;
I did not fee you, welcome gentle feiguior,
We lacke f your counfell, and your helpe to night.
Bra. So did I yours, good your grace pardon me.
Neither my place, nor ought I heard of bufinelTe
Hath rais’d me from my bed,*?2or || doth the generall care
Take any § hold of me ; for my particular
Is of fo floodgate and orebearing nature.
That it engluts and fwallowes other forrowcs.
And it is ftill it felfe.
Du, Why, what’s the matter ? \
Bra. My daughter, O my daughter.
All. Dead ?
Bra. I to me :
She is abus’d, ftolne from me and corrupted.
By fpels and medicines, bought of mountebancks,
* rtf erne. 4. he. f to. t lack, }) not, § any omitted,
Ǥ grief e.
X 3
\
For
The Tragedy of Othello
For nature fo prepofteroufly to erre, I
Saunce f witchcraft could not.
Du, Who ere he be, that in this foule proceeding
Hath thus beguild your daughter of her.felfe,
And you of her, the bloody booke of law.
You (hall your felfe, read in the bitter letter,
After its owne fenfe, tho J our proper fonne
Stood in your a<fl:ion.
Bra. Humbly I thankeyour grace ;
Here is the man, this Moore, whom now it feemes
Your fpeciall mandate, for the ftate affaires
Hath hither brought.
All, We are very forry for’t.
Du, What in your owne part can you fay to this ?
Bra. Nothing, but this is fo.
0th. Moff potent, graue, and reuerend feigniors,
My very noble and approoued good maiilers :
That I haue tane away this old mans daughter.
It is mod true : true, I haue married her.
The very head and front of my offending.
Hath this extent no more. Rude am I in my fpeech,
And little bled with the fet phrafe of peace.
For fince thefe armes of mine had feuen yeares pith,
Till now fome nine moones waded, they haue vs’d .
'i'heir deared aTion in the tented field.
And little of this great world can I fpeake,
IMore then pertaines tofeate of'broyle, and battaile,
And therefore little fhall I grace my caufe.
In fpeaking for my felfe; yet by your gracious patience,
I 'ivill II a round vnuarmjh'd § tale deliuer.
Of my whole courfe of loue, what drugs, what charmes,
y/hatconiuration, and what mighty magicke,
4- (Being not deficient y bUmi or lame of fenfe ) Edit. 1630.
•j" I yea tbo. II ^Quld, § mrauijh'd.
(For
THE Moore of Venice.
(For fuch proceedings am I charg’d wlthall :)
i wonne his daughter.
Bra. A maiden neuer bold of fpiilt,
So Hill and quiet, that her motion
Blulht at her felfe : and Ihe in fpite of nature,
Of yeares, of countrey, credit, euery thing.
To fall in loue with what flie fear’d to looke on ?
It is a iudgement maimd, and moH imperfe(ft.
That will confeiTe perfedlion, fo would erre
AgainH all rules of nature, and muft be driuen.
To find out praflifes of cunning hell.
Why this (hould be, I therefore vouch againe.
That with fome mixtures powerfull ore the blood,
Or with fome dram coniur’d to this efiecH,
He wrought vpon her.
Du. To youth this is no proofe.
Without more certaine and more ouert tefi,
Thefe are thin habits, and poore likelihoods.
Of moderne feemings, you preferre againfi: him.
I Sena. But Othello (peake.
Did you by indirect and forced courfes.
Subdue and poifon this young maides affe^fions ?
Or came it by requefi, and fuch fa ire quefiion,
As foule to foule afFoordeth ?
0th. I doe befeech you.
Send for the lady to the Sagittar *,
And let her fpeake of me before her father; *
If you doe finde me foule in her report f ,
Not onely take away, but let your fentence,
Euen fall vpon my life.
Du. Fetch Defdemona hither. Exit | two'or three,
* Sagutary. '■
•f ^he truji^ tbc ofict, I dd hold of you Edit, 163O.
4- Exeunt,
X 4
/
Oth.
The Tragedy of Othello
0th. Ancient condu(fl them, you beQ know the place ;
And till flic come, as faithfull f as to heauen, 4.
So iuflly to your graue eares Tie prefent.
How I did thiiuc in this faire ladyes louc,
And ihc in mine.
Du. Say it Othello.
0th. Pier father loiied me, oft inuited me,
Still queAioned me the Ilory of my life,
From yeare to yearc, the battailes, feiges, fortunes
hat I haue palp :
I ran it through, eucn from my boyilli dayes,
Toth’ very moment that he bade me tell it.
Wherein I fpake of mofi: difaftrous chances,
Of mooning accident of + Hood and field ;
Of breadth fcapes ith imminent deadly breach ;
Of being taken by the infolent foe:
And fold to flauery, and my redemption thence,
ylnd'with it all || my traveils hiflorie ;
'Wherein of antrees * vaff, and deferts idle.
Hough quarries, rocks and hils, whofe heads touch heauen.
It was my hent ff to fpeake, fuch was the procefle :
And of the Cannibals, that each other eate ;
I
The Authrofophagie, and men whofe heads
Doe grow beiieatn their flaoulders : this to heare.
Would Dejdemona feiioufly incline ;
But fliil the houfe affliires would draw her thence.
And §§ euer as fhie could wuth hall difpatch, '
Shee’d conr.e agair.e, and with a greedy eare
Deuoure vp my difeourfe ; which I obferuing,
Tooke once a plyant houre, and found good mcanes
’;'o draw from her a pra'er or earneft heart,
Th.at I would all my pilgrimage dilate,
f truply. 4 ^ ccrtffffe the •vices of fry hhvd. J rccider.ts hy. § bairt 1
Ij A. di-tii tar.ee in. * an an. -j t H §lj Which.
Whereof
THE Moore of Venice.
Whereof by parcel! fhe had fomethlng heard,
But not intentiuely ; I did confent.
And often did beguile her of her teares.
When I did fpeake or Ibme dijirefjed || ftroake
That my youth fuffered : my ffory being done ;
She gaue me for my paines a world of fights ;
She fwore Ifaith twas flrange, twas pafTing flrange;
Twas pittifull, twas wondrous pittifull ;
She wilht Ihe had not heard it. yet Ihe wifht
That heauen had made her fuch a man : Ihe thanked me.
And bad me, if I had a friend that loued her,
I fhould but teach him how to tell my ffory,
And that would wooe her. Vpon this heate I fpake :
She loll’d me for the dangers I had paff.
And I lou’d her that (he did piety them.
This onely is the witchcraft 1 haue vs’d s
Here comes the lady,
Let her witnefTe it.
Enter Defdemona, lago, and the reji,
'Du, I thinke tliis tale would win my daughter to,-r-.
Good Brahantio, take vp this mangled matter at the beff.
Men doe tlieij broken weapons rather vfe,
Then their bare hands.
Bra, I pray you heare her fpeake.
If fhe cpnielTe that fhe was halfe the wooer,
DcAruoion life on me, if my bad blame
Light on the man. Come hither gentle miflreffe :
Doe you perceiue in all this noble company,
Where moll: you owe obedience \
Def My noble father,
I doe perceiue here a deuided duty :
To you I am bound for life and education;
My
The Tragedy of Othello
My, life and education both doe learne me
How to refpcft you, you are lord of all my * duty,
I am hitherto your daughter, but hcere’s my hufbaud :
And fo much duty as my mother fliewed
To yon, preferring you before her father.
So much I challenge, that I may profelTe,
Due to the Moore my lord.
Bra. God bu’y, I ha done :
Pleafe it your grace, on to the flate affaires ;
I had rather to adopt a child then get it ;
Come hither Moore :
I here doe giue thee that, with all my heart f
I would keepe from thee : for your fake iewell,
I am glad at foule. I haue no other child,
For thy efcape would teach me tyranny.
To hang clogs on em, I haue done lord.
Du. Let me fpeake like your felfe, and lay a fentencc
Which as a greefe or ftep may help thefe louers
Into your fauour.
When remedies are pafl, the griefes are ended.
By feeing the w'orfl, which late on hopes depended.
To mourne a mifeheife that is pafl and gone,
Is the next way to draw more mifehiefe on ?
What cannot be preferu’d when fortune takes.
Patience heriniury a mockery makes.
'I'he rob’d that fmiles, fleales fomething from the thiefe.
He robs himfelfe, that fpends a booteleffe griefe.
Bra. So let the Turke, of Cypres vs beguile.
We lofe it not fo long as we can fmile ;
He beares the fentence well that nothing beares,
But the free comfort, which from thence he heares :
* the lord of. ^
t Whiih but thou haf already j •with ell my heart
THE Moore of Venice,
0
But he beares both the fentence and the forrow.
That to pay griefe, mufl of poore patience borrow.
Thefe fentences to fugar, or to gaii,
Being ftrong on both fides, are equiuocall :
But words are words, I neuer yet did heare,
That the bruis’d heart was pierced through the eare :
Befeech you now, to the affaires of the flate.
Du. The Tiirke with moll mighty preparation makes for
Cipres : Othello, the fortitude of the place, is befl knowne to
you, and tho we haue there a fubflitute of moil: allowed fuf-
ficiency, yet opinion, a foueraigne mifireiTe of effe(fls, throwes
a more (lifer voyce on you ; you muft therefore bee content
to (lubber the gloffe ot your new fortunes, with this more
flubborne and boiderous expedition.
0th. The tyrant cudome mod great fenators.
Hath made the flinty and deele cooch of warre.
My thrice driuen bed of downe : I doe agnize
A naturall and prompt alacrity,
I find in hardneffe, and would vndertake
This prefent warres againd the Ottamites,
Mod humbly therefore, bending to your date,
I craue fit difpofltion for my wife.
Due rcuerence * of place and exhibition.
Which fuch accommodation I and befort.
As leuels with her breeding.
Du. If you pleafe, bee’t at her fathers.
Bra. He not haue it fo.
0th. Nor I.
Defd. Nor I, I would not there reflde.
To put my father in impatient thoughts.
By being in his eye : mod grac'ous duke.
To my vnfolding lend a gracious eare.
* reference.
Aad
/
The Tragedy of Othello
And let me finde a charter in your voyce.
And if t niy fimplenefTe. —
Du. What would you—fpeake
Def. That I did loue the Moore, to Hue with him.
My downe right violence, and fcorne § of fortunes,
May trumpet to the world : my hearts fubdued,
Euen to the vtmojl pleafure || of my lord :
I faw Othelloes vifTage in his mindc,
And to his honors, and his valiant parts
Did I my foule and fortunes confecrate :
So that deere lords, if I be left bthinde,
A mothe of peace, and he goe to the warre.
The rites for which I loue him, are bereft me,
And I a heauy interim fhall fupporr,
By his deare abfence, let me goe with him.
0th. Your voyces lords : befeech you let her will,
Haue a free way, * I therefore beg it not
To pleafe the pallat of my appetite.
Nor to comply with heate, the young affects
In my defnn(rt, and proper fatisfa6lion.
But to be free and bounteous qf §§ her mind.
And heauen defend your good foules that you thinke
I will your ferious and good bufinefle fcant.
For (he is with me ; — no, when light-wingd toyes.
And feather’d Cupid foyles with wanton dulnelfe.
My fpeculatine and acffiue inftruments.
That my difports, corrupt and taint my bufinefTe,
Let hufwiues make a (kellet of my helme.
And all indigne and bafe aduerfities.
Make head againH my reputation.
Da. Be it, as you /hall priuately determine,
pu beaam.
I Def<{emo»a.
§§ (0-
§ Jlorme.
i| very qualitie
* Vouch with
Either
I
THE Moore of Venice.
Either for •I' or going, the affaires cry f hafl:,
And fpeede rnufl anfwer, you muft hence to night.
Defd. To night my lord I
Du. This night.
0th. With all my heart.
Du. At ten J i’the morning here weel meeteagaine.
Othello, leaue fome officer behind.
And he ffiall our commiffion bring to you.
With fuch things elfe of quality or || refpecfl,
As doth concerne § you.
0th. Pleafe your grace, my ancient,
A man he is of honefty and truft,
To his conueyance I affigne my wife.
With what elfe needefull your good grace ffiall thinke.
To be fent after me.
Du. Let it be fo :
Good night to euery one, and noble feignior,
If vertue no delighted beauty lacke.
Your fon in law is farre more faire then blackc.
. I Sena. Adue braue Moore, vfe Defdemona well.
Bra. Looke to her Moore, haue a quiche eye to fee
She has deceiu’d her father, may doe f f thee. Exeunt.
0th. My life vpon her faith : honed dago.
My Defdemona mud I leaue to thee,
I preethee let thy wife attend on her.
And bring her after in the bed aduantage ;
Come Defdemona, I haue but an home
Of loue, of woridy matters, and direflion.
To fpend with thee, we mud obey the time.
Rod. lago. Exit Moore and Defdemona.
lag. What faied thou noble heart ?
Rod. What will I doe thinked thou ?
4- for her, ' -f affaire cries. J tiine. 1| and. § impsrt.
* if tbcu kaji eyes to fee I-f omittid.
N
The Tragedy of Othello
lag. Why goe to bed and fleepe.
Rod. I will incontinently drowne my fcife.
lag. Well, if thou doeff, I fliall neuer loue thee after It,
Why, thou filly gentleman.
Rod. It is fiUineflTe to line, when to liue is a torment, and
then we haue a prefcription,’ to dye when death is our phy-
fition.
lag. lha \ look’d vpon the world for foure times feuen
yeares, and fince I could diftinguifh betweene a benefit, and
an iniury, I neuer found a man that knew how to loue him-
felfe : ere I would fay I would drowne my felfe, for the loue
of a Ginny hen, I would change my humanity with a baboone.
Rod. What fhould I do ? I confeffe it is my fhame to be fo
fond, but it is not in my vertue to amend it.
lag. Vertue ? a fig, tis in ourfelues, that wee are thus, or .
thus, our bodies are gardens, to the which our wills are gar*
diners, fo that if we will plant nettles, or fow lettice, fet
ifop, and weed vp time ; fupply it with one gender of hearbes>
or diflra6f it with many; either to haue it flerrill with idle*
neffe, or manur’d with induflr}^ why the power, and corri-
gible authority of this, lies in our wills. If the ballance of
our hues had not one fcale of reafon, to poife another of fen*
fuality ; the blood and bafeneffe of our natures, would con-
du(fi: vs to moft prepoherous conclufions. But wee haue reafon
to coole our raging motions, our carnall flings, our vnbitted
lufls ; whereof I take this, that you call loue to be a fedf, or
^ fyen.
Rod. It cannot be*
- lag. It is meerly a lufl of the blood, and a permilTion of
the will : come, be a man ; drowne thy felfe f drowne cats
and blinde puppies: I profeffe me thy friend, and I confeffe
me knit to thy deferuing, with cables of perdurable tough-
nefle; I could neuer better fleede thee then now. Put money
J 0 •vUlaimm Jha, Sec.
in
THE Moore of Venice.
in thy puiTc ; follow thefe warres, defeate thy fauour with aa
vfurp’d beard ; I fay, put money in thy purfe. It cannot be,
that Defdemona fhould long continue her loue vnto the Moore,
put money in thy purfe, — nor he to her ; it was a violent com-
mencement, and thou ihalt fee an aniwerable fequeflration ; put
but money in thy purfe. — Thefe Moores are changeable in their
wills: — fill thy purfe with money. The food that to him now,
is as lufiiious as locufts, (hall be to him (hortly as acerbe * as
the t colloquintida. f When firee is fated with his body, fhee
will finde the error of her choyce ; fiiee mu ft haue change ;
fhee muft. Therefore put money in thy purfe : if thou wilt
needes damme thy felfe, doe it a more delicate way then
' drowning ; make all the money thou canft. If fanctimony,
and a fraile vow, betwixt an erring Barbarian^ and a fuper
fubtle Venetian^ be not too hard for my wits, and all the tribe
of hell, thou flialt enioy her; therefore make money, — a pox
a drowning, tls cleane out of the way ; feeke thou rather to
be bang’d in compafiing thy ioy, then to bee drowned, and
goe without her.
Rod, Wilt thou befaft to my hopes ? §
lag. Thou art fure of me — goe, make money—I haue told
thee often, and I tell thee againe, and againe, I hate the
Moore, my caufe is harted, thine has no leffe reafon, let vs b'e
communicative |1 in our reuenge againft him : if thou canft
cuckold him, thou doeft thy felfe a pieafure, and me a fport.
There are many euents in the womb of time, which will be
deliuered, Trauerce, go, prouide thy money, we will haue
more of this to morrow, adiue.
Rod. Where fliall we meete i’th morning.
lag. At my lodging.
Rod. Tie be with thee betimes.
lag. Go to, farewell : doe you heare' Roderigo ?
* bitter. f omitted. J rr.ufi cbarge for youth, when, &c. § if 1
'deisfid tn the ijjue, {] conje^ya.
The Tragedy of Othello
Rod. What fay you ?
lag. No more of drowning, do you heare ?
Rod. I am chang’d ♦. Exit Roderig#.
lag Goe to, farewell, put money enough in your purfe f ;
Thus doe I euer make my foole my purfe:
For I mine owne gain'd knowledge fliould prophane.
If I would time expend with fuch a fnipe.
But for my fport and profit : I hate the Moore,
And it is thought abroad, that twixt my fheetes
Ha’s done my office ; I know not, if’t be true—
Yet I, for meere fufpition in that k'nd.
Will doe, as if for furety : he holds me well,
The better (hall my purpofe worke on him.
Cajfio's a proper man, let me fee now,
To get his place, and make vp to my will,
A double knauery — how, how, — let me fee,
After fome time, to abufe Othelloe's eare.
That he is too familiar with his wife :
He has a perfon and a fmooth difpofe,
To be fufpefled, fram’d to make women falfe :
The Moore a free and open nature too.
That thinkes men honed, that but feemes to be fo :
And will as tenderly be led bit’h nofe — as afies are :
I ha’t, it is ingender’d : hell and night
Mud bring this mondrous birth to the worlds light.
Exit.
ACTUS II.
S C OE N A I.
Enter Montanio, gouernor c/*Cypres, with two other gentlemen.
Montanio. What from the cape can you difcerne at fea ?
I Gent. Nothing at all, it is a high wrought flood,
* Ik go Jell all my lard, *!■ This line is omitted in the fecond edition,
I cannot
THE Moore of Venice#
I cAnnot twixt the hauen ** and the mayne
Defcry a faile.
Mon, Me thinkes the wind does fpeake aloud at land^
A fuller blaft ne’re fhooke our battlements :
If it ha ruffian d fo vpon the fea.
What ribbes of oake, when the huge mountaine mealt.
Can hold the morties, — What ffiall We heare of this ?
2 Gent, A fegregation of the Turkijh fleete :
For doe but Hand vpon the banning * ffiore,
The chiding billon) f feemes to pelt the cloudes.
The winde fhak’d furge, with high and monftrous mayne^'
Seemes to caft water, on the burning beare.
And quench the guards of th’ euer fired pole,
I neuer did, like moleHation view,
On the inchafed flood.
Mon. If that the Turkijh fleete
Be not inffielter’d, and embayed, they are drown’d,
It is impoffible they J beare it out.
Enter a third gentleman,
3 Gent.^QV^cs lords your warres are done:
The defperate tempefl: hath fo bang’d the Turke,
That their delignement halts ; another^ fhippeof Venice hath
feene
A greeuous wracke and fuflerance
On moft part of the §§ fleete.
Mon. How, is this true ?
3 Gent. The fhippe is heere put in :
A Veronejfa, Michael Cajjioy
Leiutenant to the warlike Moore Othello^
Is come affiore : the Moore himfelfe at fea,
And is in full commiflion here for Cypres,
Mon. I am glad on’t, tis a worthy gouernour,
♦* heauen, *f gaming, I" billo’wet, f to, § lads, {j ^
their.
VOL.IV, ' Y Z-C‘nu
The Tragedy of Othello
3. Cent, But this fame Caffio, tho he fpeake of comfort,
Touching the Tiirkijb lofle, yet he lookes fadly.
And prayes the Moore be fafe, for they were parted,
With foule and violent tempcft.
Mon. Pray heauen he be :
For I haue feru’d him, and the man commands
Like a full fouldier :
Lets to the fea fide, ho,
As well to fee the veffcll that’s come in
As to throw out our eyes for braue Othello
3 Gent. Come, lets doe fo.
For euery minute is expeffancy
Of more arriuance.
Enter Caflio.
Caf. Thankes to the valiant of this -worthy f ifle
That fo approue the Moore, and let the heauens
Giue him defence againft their elements.
For I haue loft him on a dangerous fea.
Mon Is he well Ihipt ?
Caf. His barke is ftoutly timberd, and his pilatc
Of very expert and approu’d allowance.
Therefore my hope’s not furfeited to death.
Stand in bold cure.
Enter a meffenger. •
Mejf. A faile, a faile, a faile.
Caf. VV’hat noyfe ?
MeJf. The towne is empty, on the brow o’th fea,
otand ranckes of people, and they cry a fayle,
Caf. My hopes doe Ihape him for the guernement.
2 Gen. They doe difchoi'ge the diot of courtefie.
Our friend at leaft. Ajloot,
* Even till ’ive make the maine and th'alre a! I hlue^
Jin trdtjiinEi regard.
-j- 'worthy omitted,
Caf.
THE Moore of Venice*
Cdf. I pray you fir goe forth.
And glue vs truth, who tis that is arriu’d*
' 2 Gent. I fhall.
Mon. But good leiutenaht, is your general! wiu’d ?
Caf, Mofl fortunately, he hath atchieu’d a maide,
That parragons defcripdon, and wild fame :
One that excells the * blafoning pens.
And in the efTeritiall vefture of creation.
Does beare all ]■ excellency ; — now, who has put in ?
Enter 2. gentleman,
2 Gent. Tis one lago, ancient to the generallj
He has had mofl fauourable and happy fpeede,
Tempefls themfelues, by f feas, and houling- windes.
The guttered rocks, and congregated fands.
Traitors enfcerped { ; to clog the guiltleffe keele.
As hauing fence of beauty, do omit
Their common natures, letting goe fifely by
The diuine Defdemona,
Mon. What is fhe ?
Caf. She that I fpoke of, oUr great captains captaine.
Left in the condu<5l of the bold lago.
Whofe footing here anticipates our thoughts
A fennights fpeede — great loue Othello guard.
And fwell his faile with thine owne powerfull breath,
That he may bleffe this bay with his tall fhippe.
And fwiftly come to Defdemona' % armes.
Enter Defdemona, lago, Emillia, and Roderigo,
Glue renewd fire.
To our extin(5led fpirits.
And bring all Cyprejfe comfort, — O behold
•f high, f enjfeep'd,
Y 2
Exlti
\
* the quirhes. .j- an.
The
The Tragedy of Othello
The riches of the flilp Is come ajhore }).
Ye men of Cypres, let her haue your knees :
Haile to thee lady : apd the grace of heauen.
Before, behinde thee, and on euery hand,
Enwheele thee round.
Defd. I thanke you valiant CaJJio :
What tidings can you tell me of my lord ?
Caf. He is not yet arriued, nor know I ought,
But that bee’s well, and will be (hortly here.
Defd, O but I feare : — how loft you company ?
{Within Afaile^ afailc,
Caf, The great contention of the fea and fkles
Parted our fellowftiip : but harke, a faile.
2 Gent* They giue their greeting to the cittadell.
This likewifeis a friend.
Caf. So fpeakes this voyce § :
Good ancient, you are welcome, welcome miftrefTe,
Let it not gall your patience, good lago.
That I extend my manners, tis my breeding,
That giues me this bold ftiew of courtefie.
lag. For * would ftie giue you fo much of her Ups,
As of her tongue, fhe has bellowed on me.
You’d haue enough.
Def. Alas ! fhee has no fpeech.
lag. I know 4- too much :
I finde it t, I ; for when I ha lift 1 to fleepe, —
Mary, before your ladifhip I grant.
She puts her tongue a little in her heart.
And chides with thinking.
Eni. You ha little caufe to fay fo.
lag. Come on, come on, you are piclures out adores:
Bells in your parlors : wildcats in your kitchins :
1{ onjhore. § Seefr the newes. * Sir. 4- tn fauh, ’f'
' J leave.
Saints
THE Moore of Venice.’
Saints In your iniurles : diuells being offended :
Players in your Koufwifery; and heufwiues in your beds.
O fie vpon thee flanderer.
lag. Nay, it is true, or elfe I am a Turke^
You rife to play, and goe to bed to worke.
Em. You fhall not write my praife.
lag. No, let me not.
Dejd. What wouldfl thou write of me.
If thou fhouldff praife me ?
lag. O gentle lady, doe not put me to’t.
For I am nothing, if not criticall.
Defd. Come on, affay — there’s one gone to the harbor ?
lag. I madam.
Defd. I am not merry, but I doe beguile
The thing I am, by feeming otherwife :
Come, how wouldfl thou praife me ?
lag. I am about it, but indeed my inuention
Comes from my pate, as birdlime does from freeze.
It plucks out braine and all : but my mufe labors.
And thus fhe is deliuer’d :
If fhe be faire and wife, faireneffe and wit ;
The one’s for vfe, the other vfmg * it.
Defd. Well praifde: how if flie be blacke and witty ?
lag. If fhe be blacke, and thereto haue a wit,
Shee’le finde a white, that fhall her blackneffe hit 4.
Defd. Worfe and worfe.
Em. How if faire and foolifh ^
lag. She neuer yet was fooliHi, that was faire.
For euen her folly helpt her, to a haire f.
Def. Thefe are old paradoxes, to make fooles laugh i’the
alehoufe.
What miferablc praife haft thou for her.
That’s foule and foolifh ?
•j- U an beirt.
* ujeth. 4 fit.
Y
3
lag.
The Tragedy of Othello
lag. There’s none fo foule, and foolifh tbercimto,
But does foule prankes, which faire and wife ones doc.
Defd, O heauy ignorance, that praifes the worft beft : but
what praife couldft thou bellow on a deferuing woman in-,
deed ? one, that in the authority of her merrits, did iulUy put
on the vouch of very malice it felfe ?
lag. She that was euer faire, and neuer proud.
Had tongue at will, and yet was neuer lowd,
Neuer lackt gold, and yet went neuer gay.
Fled from her wilh, and yet faid, now I may :
She that being angred, her reuenge being nigh.
Bad her wrong flay, and her difpleafure fiye ;
She that in wifedome, neuer was fo fraile,
To change the codfliead for the falmons taile.
She that could thinke, and ne’re difclofe her minde, *
She was a wdght, if euerfuch wight were.
Def. To doe what \ .
lag. To fuckle fooles, and chronicle fmall beere.
Def, O mofl lame and impotent conclufion :
Doe not learne of him Emillidy tho he be thy hufband ;
How fay you CaJJloy is he not a mofl prophane and liberall
Co'unfellour ?
Caf. He fpeakes home madam, you may rellifh him
More in the fouldier then in the fchollcr.
lag. He takes her by the palme ; I well fed, whifper : as
little a webbe as this will enfnare as great z.Jlee f as Cajfio, I
fmile vpon her, doe : I will catch you in your owne courtefies:
you fay true, tis fo indeed. If fuch trickes as thefe flrip you
out of your leiutenantry, it had beene better you had not rifl
your three fingers fo oft, which now againe, you are mofl apt
to play the fir in : good, well kifl, an excellent courtefie ; tis
fo indeed : yet againe, your fingers at your lips ? would they
* See futorsfillo'iving and not looke hcbindt
t ‘ •
were
THE Moore of Venice.'
were cliflerpipes for your fake. — The Moore, I know his
trumpet. Trumpets •within^
Enter Othello, and attendants,
Caf, Tis truely fo.
Def. Lets meete him, and receiue him.
Caf. Loe, where he comes.
0th, O my faire warriour.
Def. My deare Othello.
' 0th. It giues me wonder great as my content,
To fee you here before me : O my foules ioy.
If after eiiery tempeft, come fuch calmeneffe.
May the winds blow, till they haue wakened death.
And let the labouring barke clime hills of feas,
Olympus high, and duck againe as low.
As hell’s from heauen : If it were now to dye,
l'’were now to be moil happy, for I feare
My foule hath her content fo abfolute,
That not another comfort, like to this
Succeeds in vnknowne fate.
Def. The heauens forbid,
]gut that our loues and comforts Ihould increafe,
Euen as our dayes doe growe.
0th. Amen to that fweete power *,
I cannot fpeake enough of this content,
It flops me heere, it is too much of ioy :
And this, and this, the greatefi: difcord be, they kijfe.
That ere our hearts (hall make.
lag. O, you are well tun’d now.
But rie fet downe the pegs, that make this mufique,
As honeft as I am.
' ' * powtru
Y 4
Cth.
The Tragedy of Othello
0th. Come, let vs to the caflle ;
Newes friends, our warres arc done, the Turks are drownd :
How doe our old acquaintance of the ifle ;
Honny, you fhai! be well defir’d in Cypres ;
I haue found great loue amongfl them ; O my fweete,
I prattle out of fafhion, and 1 dote,
In mine one comforts : I preethee good lago.
Gee to the bay, and difimbarke my coffers ;
Bring thou the mafler to the cittadell ;
He is a good one, and his worthineffe,
■ Does challenge much refpefl: : come Dejdemonay
Once more well met at C ypres. Exit.
lag. Doe thou meete me prefently at the habour : come
hither, if thou beefl valiant, as they fay, bafe men being in
loue, haue then a nobility in their natures, more then is natiuc
to them — liff me, the leiutenant to night watches on the court
of guard : fir ft I will tell thee, this Defdemona is direflly in
loue with him.
Rod. With him ? why tis not poffible.
lag. Lay thy finger thus, and let thy foule be inftruffed :
marke me, with what violence flie firft lou’d the Moore, but
^ for bragging, and telling her fantafticall lies ; and will fhe
loue him ftill for prating ? let not the difcrcet heart thinke fo
Her eye muft be fed, and what delight fliaii flae haue to look
on the diueli ? when the blood is made dull with the a(5l of
fport, there ftiould be againe f to inflame it, and giue faciety
a frefh appetite. Loue lines in fauour, fympathy in yeares,
manners and beaiuies ; all which the Moore is defedliue in:
now for want of thefe requir’d conueniences, her delicate ten-
derneffe will finde it felfe abus’d, beginne to heaue the gorge,
difrellifh and abhorre the Moore, very nature will inftrudl her
to it, and compell her to fome fecond choyce : now fir, this
granted, as it is a moft pregnant and vnforced pofttion, who
* iff -I- a game*
ftaads
THE Moore of Venice;
(lands fo eminently in the degree of this fortune, as Caffio
does ? a knaue very voluble, no farder confcionable, then in
putting on the meere forme of ciuill and hand-feeming, for the
better compaffing of his fait and hidden afFe(flions : a fubtle
flippery knaue, a finder out of occafions ; that has an eye, can
flampe and counterfeit the true adaantages neuer prefent them-
Jellies Befides, the knaue is handfonie, 3"ong, and hath
all thofe requifites in him that folly and green mindes look
after ; a peflilent compleate knaue, and the woman has found
him already.
Rod. I cannot beleeue that in her, fhee’s full of mod bled
condition.
lag. Bled figs end : the wine fhee drinkes is made of grapes:
)f fhe had beene bled, die would neuer haue lou’d the Moore.
Didd thou not fee her paddle with the palme of his hand I
Rod, Yes, but that was but courtefie.
lag. Lechery, by this hand : an index and f prologue to
the hidory of lud and foule thoughts : they met fo neere with
their lips, that their breathes embrac’d together. J When
thefe mutualities fo marfhall the way, hand at hand, comes ||
the maine exercife, the incorporate conclufion. But fir, be
you rul’d by mee, I haue brought you from Venice : watch
you tonight, for § command He lay’t vpon you, Cajfio
knowes you not. Tie not be farre from you, do you finde fome
occafion to auger CaJfio, either by fpeaking too loud, or taint-
ing his difcipline, or from what other caufe you pleafe ; which
the timefhall more fauourably minider.
Rod. Well.
lag. Sir he is rafh, and very fuddain in choler, and haply
/ with his trunchen may drike at you ; prouoke him that he may,
for euen out of that, will I caufe thefe of Cypres to mutiny, whofe
* advantages^ tho true advantage never prefentsitjelfe, •f' andebfeure,
J Villainws thoughts vohen^ &C. j| o« Roderigo, the majitr, and they Sec,
§ your emitted.
quallificaiion
The Tragedy of Othello
quallificatlon (hall come into no true trufi * again’t, but by the
difplanting of Cajfio : fo fhall you haue a fhorter iourney to
your defires by the meanes I fhal then haue to prefer them, and
the impediment, moil: profitably remou’d, without which there
were no expe<5lation of our profperity.
Mod, I will doe this, if 1 can bring it to any opportunity.
lag, I warrant thee, meete me by and by at the cittadell ; I
muA fetch his neceflaries aihore. — Farewell.
Rod, Adue. Exit.
lag. That CaJfio loues her, I doe well beleeue it ;
That file loues him, tis apt and of great credit ;
The Moore howbe’t, that I indure him not.
Is of a conftaht, noble, louing nature;
And I dare thinke, hee’le proue to Defdemonay
A moil deere huiband: now I doe loue her too,
Not out of abfolute luft, tho peraduenture,
I ftand accountant for as great a fin.
But partly lead to diet my reuenge,
For that I doe fiifpcdf the lufifull Moore,
Hath leap’d into my feate, the thought whereof
Doth like a poifonous minerall gnaw my inwards.
And nothing can, nor fliall content my foule.
Till l am euen with him, wife, for wife :
Of failing fo, yet that I pur the Moore,
At leaft, into a iealoufie fo firong.
That iudgement cannot cure ; which thing to doe.
If this'poore trafii of Fenice, whom I crufii.
For his quicke hunting, (land the putting on,
I’le haue our Michael CaJJio on the hip,
Abufe him to the Moore, in the ranke garbe,
(For I feare Cajfio, with my night cap to)
Make the Moore thanke me, loue me, and reward me,
For making him egregioufly an afle.
And
THE Moore of Venice,
And pradliifing vpon his peace and quiet,
Euen toraadnefle : tis here, but yet confus’d,
Knauerles plaine face is neuer feene, till vs’d. Exit,
Enter a gentleman * reading a proclamation*
It is Othello's pleafure ; our noble and valiant generall, that
vpon certaine tidings now arriued, importing the meere per-
dition of the Turkijh fleete ; that euery man put himfelfe into
triumph : fome to dance, fome make bonefires ; each man to
what fport and reuels his minde f leades him ; for befides thefe
beneficiall newes,. it is the celebration of his nuptialls : fo
much was his pleafure fhould bee proclaimed. All offices are
open, and there is full liberty, from this prefent houre of fiue,
till the bell hath told eleuen. Heauen blefle the ifl-e of Cypres^
and our noble generall Othello,
Enter Othello, Caffio, and Defdemona.
0th, Good Michael, looke you to the guard to night.
Lets teach our felues the f honourable floppe,
Not to out fport difcretion.
Caf. lago hath dirsEled || what to doe :
But notwithdanding with my perfonall eye
Will I looke to it.
0th. lago is mod: honed,
Michael good night, to morrow with your earlied.
Let me hauc fpeech.with you, come my deare loue.
The purchafe made, the fruits are to enfue,
The § profits yet to come twixt me and you.
Good night. . Exit Othello and Defdemonn.
* Othello' % kerald, 'f additlm, | that, j| direffictt* § That,
Enter
The Tragedy of Othello
Enter lago.
Caf, Welcome lago, we mufl to the watch.
lag. 'Not this home leiutenant, tis not yet ten a clock : our
gcnerall call: vs thus early for the loue of his Defdcmona : who
let vs not therefore blame, hee hath no^ yet made wanton the
night with her; and (he is fport for loiie,
Caf. She is a mofl exquifite lady.
lag. And I’le warrant her full of game.
Caf. Indeede fhe is a mofl: frefti and delicate creature.
lag. What an eye Ihe has ?
Me thinkes it founds a parly of prouocation.
Caf An inuitingeye, and yet me thinkes right moddefl.
lag. And when Ihefpeakes, tis an alarme to loue.
Caf. It is indeede perfeftion.
lag. Well, happinelTe to their ftieetes — come leiutenant, I
haue a Hope of wine, and heere without are a brace of Cypres
gallants, that would faine haue a meafure to the health of the
blacke Othello.
Caf. Not to night, good lago-y I haue very poore and vn-
happy braines for drinking : I could well wifli courtefie would
inuent fome other cuftome of entertainement.
lag. O they are our friends, — but one cup : Tie drink for
you.
Caf. I ha drunke but one cup to night, and that was craftily
, qualified to, and behold what innouation it makes here : I am
vnfortunate in the infirmity, and dare not talke my weakenefie
with any more.
Jag. What man, tis a night of reuells, the gallants defire
it.
Caf. Where are they ?
lag Here at the dore, I pray you call them in.
Caf. rie do’t, but it dillikes me. Exit,
lag.
THE Moore of Venice.
lag. If I can faften but one cup vpon him,
With that which he hath drunke to night already,
Hee’ll be as full of quarrell and offence,
As my young miftris dog : — now my ficke foole Roderigs,
Whom loue has turn’d almofl: the wrong fide outward.
To Defdemona, hath to night carouff
Potations pottle deepe, and hee’s to watch
Three lads of Cypres^ noble fwelling fpirits.
That hold their honour, in a wary diftance.
The very elements of this warlike ifle,
Haue I to night fluftred with flowing cups.
And the watch too : now mongft this flocke of drunkards,
I am to put our CaJJio in fome a6lion.
That may offend the Ifle;
E72tcr Montanio, Callio, and others.
But here they come :
If confequence doe but approoue my dreame.
My boate failes freely, both with winde and flreame.
Caf. Fore God they haue giuen me a roufe already.
Mon> Good faith a little one, not pafl: a pint.
As I am a fouldier.
lag. Some wine ho :
And let me the cannikin clinke, dinkey
And let me the cannikin clinkcy clinke :
A fouldier'' s a man^ a life's but a fpan.
Why then let a foiddier drinke, — Some wtne boyes,
Caf, Fore God an excellent fong.
lag, I iearn’d it in England^ where indeed they are mofl:
potent in potting: your Dane, your Germaine, and your
fwag-bellied Hollander ; drinke ho, arc nothing to your Englifbi
Caf, Is your EngUJlj man fo expert * in his drinking ?
* ex^uijite.
The Tragedy ov Othello
lag. Why he drlnkes you with faclUity, your Dane dead
drunke: he fweats not to onerthrow yowv .Almaine\ he glues
your Hollander a vomit, ere the next pottle can be fild,
Caf, To the health of our generall.
Mon. I am for it lieutenant, and I will doe you iuftice.
lag. O fweete England, — king Stephen vjas * a worthy
pecre,
His breeches cojl him but a crowne.
He held 'em fixpence all too deere.
With that he cald the taylor lovjne.
He "was a wight of high renowne,
And thou art but of low degree,
Tis pride that puls the countrey downe.
Then take thine owd cloke about thee. — Some wine ho.
Caf. Tore Cod f this is a more exquifite fong then the other.
lag. Will you hear’t agen \
Caf. No, for I hold him vnworthy of his place, that does
thofe things : w'ell, God’s abbue all, and there bee foules that
muff bee faued.
lag. It is true good leiutenant.
Caf. For mine own part, no offence to the generall, nor
any man of quality, I hope to be faued.
lag. And fo doe I leiutenant.
Caf. I, but by your leaue, not before me ; the leiutenant is
to be faued before the ancient. Let’s ha no more of this, let’s
to our affaires : Cod | forgiue vs our fins : gentlemen, let’s
looke to our bufinelfe ; doe not thinke gentlemen I am drunke,
this is my ancient, this is my right hand, and this is my left
hand : I am not drunke now, I can Land well enough, and
fpcake well enough.
All. Excellent well.
* "ivas and. f Why, J Goi omitted.
Caf
THE Moore of Venice^
Caf. Very well then : you muft not thinke, that I am
drunke. Ex,
Mon, To the plotforme malfters. Come, let’s fet' the
watch.
lag. You fee this fellow that is gone before,
He is a fouldier fit to Hand by Cafar,
And giue direftion : and doe but fee his vice,
Tis to his vertue, a iuft equinox.
The one as long as th’other : tis pitty of him,
I feare the truft Othello put him in.
On fome odde time of his infirmity.
Will fhake this ifland.
Mon. But is he often thus.
lag. Tis euermore the prologue to his fleepe :
Hee’le watch the horolodge a double fet.
If drinke rocke not his cradle.
Mon. Twere well the generall -wete * put in minde of it.
Perhaps he fees it not, or his good nature,
Praifes the vertues t that appeares in CaJJio,
And looks t not on his euills : is not this true ?
Enter Roderigo.
lag. How now Roderigo ^
I pray you after the leiutenant, goe Exit Rod.
Mon. And tis great pitty that the noble Moore
Should hazard fuch a place, as his owne fecond.
With one of an ingraft infirmity :
It were an honefl a61:ion to fay fo to the Moore,
lag. Not I, for this faire ifland : ,
I doe loue CaJJio well, and would doe much,*
HelpSy helpe, •within.
To cure him of this euill : but harke, what noyfe.
* vjsre, Virtue, % loakcs.
Enter
The Tragedv of Othello
Enter Caflio, drilling in Roderigo.
Caf. Zorns *, you rogue, you rafcall.
Mon* What’s the matter Iciutenant ?
Caf. A knaue, teach mee my duty : but Tie beate the knauc
into a wicker bottle.
Rod. Beate me?
Caf. DoeR thou prate rogue ?
Mon. Good leiutenant ; pray fir hold your hand.
Caf Let me goe fir, or He knocke you ore the mazzard.
Mon. Come, come, you are drunke.
Caf Drunke ? rhcy fight,
lag. Away I fay, goe out and cry a muteny.
A bell rung.
Nay good leiutenant : Godfwill gentlemen,
Heipe ho, leiutenant : fir Montanioy fir,
Helpe maifters, here’s a goodly watch indeed.
Who’s that that rings the bell ? diablo — ho.
The towne will rife, Godfwill f leiutenant, hold.
You will be fiiam’d for euer.
Enter Othello, and gentlemen ’with 'weapons*
0th. What is the matter here ?
Mon. Zoiins I bleed Rill, I am hurt, to the death :
0th. Hold, for your Hues.
lag. Hold, hold leiutenant, fir Montanio, gentlemen,
Haue you forgot all place of fence, and duty :
Hold, the gcnerall fpeakes to you ; hold, hold, for fhame.
0th. Why how now ho, from whence arifes this ?
Are we turn’d TurkeSy and to our felues doe that.
Which heauen has forbid the Ottamites :
For chiiRian fiiame, put by this barbarous brawle ;
* Zouns omitted. f Jie, fie. Zeum omitted.
He
THE Moore of Venice.'
He that iflirres next, to czywq forth * his owne rage.
Holds his foule light, he dies vpon his motion ;
Silence thatdreadfull bell, it frights the ifle
From her propriety ; what’s the matter mafters I
Honell: lagOy that lookes dead with grieuing,
Speake, who began this, on thy lone I charge thee.
lag, I doe not know, friends all but now, euen now,
In quarter, and in termes, like bride and groome,
Deuefhng them to bed, and then but now.
As if fome plannet had vnwitted men.
Swords out, and tilting one at others breafi,
In oppofition bloody. I cannot fpeake
Any beginning to this peeuilh odds j
And would in action glorious, I had lofi
Thefe :}: legges, that brought me to a part of it.
0th, How came it Michael^ you were thus forgot ?
Caf. I pray you pardon me, I cannot fpeake.
0th. Worthy Montanioy you were wont be ciuill,
The grauity and liilnefTe of your youths
The world hath noted, and your name is great.
In men of wifell: cenfure : what’s the matter
That you vnlace your reputation thus,
And fpend your rich opinion, for the name
Of a night brawler ? giue me anfwcr to’t ?
Mon. Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger,
Your officer lago can informe you.
While I fpare fpeech, which fomething now ofTendsme,
Of all that 1 doe know, nor know I ought
By me, that’s fed or done amifle this night,
Vnleffe felfe-charity be fometime a vice,
And to defend our felues it be a finne.
When violence affayles vs.
Otk.
\oi, IV.
* >r. I Thfe
z
The Tragedy of’Othello
0th. Now by heauen
My blood begins my fafer guides to rule, .
And palTicmliauing my beft iudgement coold,
AfTayes to leade the way. Zouns 4-, if I ftirre.
Or doe but lift this arme, the beft of you
Shall finke in my rebuke: giue me to know
How this foule rout began, who fet it on,
And he that is approou’d in this offence,
Tho he had twin’d with me, both at a birth,
Shall loofe me ; what, in a towne of warre,
Yet wild, the peoples hearts brim full of feare,
To mannage priuate and domeflicke quarrels,
In night, and on the court and guard of fafety ?
Tis monffrous. lago, who began ?
Mon. If partiality affin’d, or league in office.
Thou doefl deliuer, more or lefle then truth.
Thou art no fouldier.
lag. Touch me not fo neere,
1 had rather ha this tongue out from * my mouth,
Then it fhould doe offence to Michael CaJJio :
Yet I perfwade my felfe to fpeake the truth,
Shall nothing wrong him. Thus it is generall :
Montanio and my feife being in fpeech.
There comes a fellow, crying out for helpe.
And CaJ/io following him with determin’d fword,
To execute vpon him : fir this gentleman
Steps in xoCaffo, and intreates his paufe ;
My felfe the crying fellow did purfue.
Left by his clamour, as it fo fell out.
The towne might fall in fright : he fwift of footc.
Out ran. my purpofe : and I returnd the rather.
For that I heard the clinke and fall of fwords :
And Cajjio high in oaths, which till to, night,
* of.
4- If once.
I ne’re
THE Moore of Venice.
t rie’re might fee f before : when I came backe.
For this was briefe, I found them clofe together.
At blow and thrufl, euen as agen they were, *
When you your felfe did part them.
More of this matter can I not report,
But men are nien, the befl: fometimes forget ;
Tho Cajfw did fome little wrong to him,
As men in rage flrike thofe that wilh them beff,
Yet furely Cajfw, I beleeue receiu’d
From him that fled, fome flrange indignity.
Which patience could not pafle.
' 0th. I know
Thy honefly and loue doth mince this matter,
Making it light to Cajfo : Cajfo, I loue thee.
But nevermore be officer of mine.
Enter Defdemona, •with others,
Looke if my gentle loue be not raifde vp t
rie make thee an example.
Def. What is the matter ?
0th. All’s well now fvveeting :
Come away to bed : fir, -for your hurts,
My felfe will be your furgeon; leade him off;
lagOy looke with care about the towne.
And filence thofe, whom this vile brawle diftra£led.
Come Defdemona : tis the fouldiers life,
To haue their balmy (lumbers wak’d with ftrife.
(ag. What are you hurt leiutenant ?
Exit Moore, Defdemona, and attendants^.
Caf I, pad: all furgery..
lag. Mary Cod 1 forbid.
■f /<*>■• t tteaven.
' Z 2 Ca/.
f
The Tragedy of Othello
Caf. Reputation, reputation, /§ ha loft my reputation :
I ha loft the immortall part fir of my felfe.
And what rcmaines is beaftiail, my reputation,
lago, my reputation.
lag. As I am an honeft man, I thought you had receiu’d
fome bodily wound, there is more oftence in that, then in
reputation : reputation is an idle and moft falfe impofition, oft
got without merit, and loft without deferuing, you haue loft
no reputation at all, vnlefte you repute your felfe fuch aloferS
what man, there tire wayes to recouer the generall agen : you
are but now calt in his moode, a punifhment more in poUicy,
then in malice, euen fo, as one would beate his ofFencelefiTe
dog, to affright an imperious lyon : fue to him againe, and
bees yours. . ,
Caf. I will rather fue to be defpis’d, then to deceiue fo good
'a commander, with fo light, fo drunken, and indifereete an
officer II O thou inuifible fpirt of wine, if thou haft no name
to bee knowne by, let vs call thee diuell. i
lag. What was he, that you followed with your fword \
What had he done to you ? ^
Caf. I know not. • •• •
lag. Ift poffible ? ...
Caf I remember a maffe of things, but nothing diftincftly ;
a qnarrell, but nothing wherefore. O God, that men fhould
put an enemy in there mouthes' to fteale away there braines ;
that wee fliould with ioy, reucll, pleafure, and applaufe, trans-
forme our felucs into beafts.
lag. Why, but you are now well enough : how came you
thus recouered ? . , ,
§ ohl.
’■ II Drunkt f andffeah Parrat f and f^uabble, Jiv^gger] fu eare ? and Jifeourfe
fujiian with ona faddsvj.
THE Moore of Venice.'*
Caf, It hath pleafde the diuell drunkennefle, to’^giue place
to the diuell wrath ; one vnperfeftnefTe, fhewes me another,
to make me frankely defpife my felfe.
lag. Come, you are too feuere a morraler ; as the time, the
place, the condition of this countrey flands, I could heartily
wifli, this had not fo befalne ; but fince it is as it is, mend It,
for your own good.
' Caf. I will afke him for my place againe, hee fhall tell me
I am a drunkard : had I as many mouthes as Hydras fuch an
anfwer would flop em all ; to be now a fenfible man, by and
by a foole, and prefently a bead. Euery vnordinate cup is
vnblefl, and the ingredience is a diuell.
lag. Come, come, good wine Is a good familiar creature,
if it be well vs’d ; exclaime no more againd it ; and good
leiute^uant, I thinke you thinke I lone you.
Caf. I haue well approou’d it fir, — I drunke ?
lag. You, or any man lining may bee drunke at fome time * .*
rie tell you what you fhall do, — our generals wife is now the
generall ; I may fay fo in this refpefl, for that he has denoted
and giuen vp himfelfe to the contemplation, marke and de-
uotement of her parts and graces. Confede your felfe freely
to her, importune her, fhee’ll helpe to put you in your place
againe : die is fo free, fo kind, fo apt, fo bleded a difpofrtion,
that fhee holds it a vice in her goodnede, not to doe more then
diee is requeded. This hraule f betweene you and her huf-
band, intreate her to fplinter, and my fortunes againd any
lay, worth naming, this cracke of your loue diall grow dronger
then twas before.
Caf. You aduife me well.
lag. I proted in the fincerlty of loue and honed kindnede. '
Caf. I thinke it freely, and betimes in the morning, will I
befeech the vertuous De/demona, to vndertake for me ; I anj
defperate of my fortunes, if they checke me here.
* time man. ^ f broken joint.
Z 3 hg.
1
The Tragedy of Othello
lag. You are in the right :
Good night leiuienant, I muH: to the watch.
Caf. Good night honeft lago. Exit*
lag. And what’s he then, that fa yes I play the villaine.
When this aduice is free I giue, and honeft.
Proball to thinking, and indeed thecourfe,
To win the Moore agen ? for tis moft eafie
The inclining Defdemona to fubdue,
In any honell fuite, (he’s fram’d as fruitfull,
As the free elements: and then for her
To win the Moore. Wer’t to renounce his baptifme.
All feales and fymbols of redeemed fin,
His foule is fo infetter’d to her loue,
That fhe may make, vnmake, doe what fhe lift, .
Euen as her appetite fhall play the god
With his weake function: how am I then a villaine?
To counfell CaJjio to this parrallell courfe.
Dire(ftly to his good : diuinity of hell.
When diuells will their blackeft fins put on.
They doe fuggeft at firft with heauenly fhewes.
As I doe now : for while this honeft foole
Plyes Defdemona to repaire his fortunes.
And fhe for him, pleades ftrongly to the Moore :
rie poure this peftilence into his eare.
That fhe rep'eales him for her bodyes luft;
And by how much fne ftriues to doe him good,
She fhall vndoe her credit with the Moore,
So will I turne her vectue into pitch.
And out of her owne goodneffe make the net
‘ That fhi^ll enmefh em all :
Enter Roderigo.
How now Roderigo?
Rod. I do follow here in the chafe, not like a hound that
• hunts, but one that Elies vp the cry : my money is almoft
fpent,
THE Moore of Venice.’
fpent, I ha bin to night exceedingly well c^dgeld : I thinke
the ilTue will be, I Ihall haue fo much experience for my
paines, as that comes to^ and ^ no money at all, and with..
that i' wit returne to Venice,
lag. How poore are they that ha not patience i
What wound did euer heale,' but by degrees ?
Thou knoweft we worke by v/ic, and not by.wichcraft.
And wit depends on dilatory time.
Do’fl: not go well ? Cajfio has beaten thee,
And thou, by that fmali hurt, hall cafheird Cajfio^
Tho other things grow faire againft the fun,
But f fruites that blofome firfl, will lirll be ripe.
Content thy felfe awhile ; bi’ihe malfe tis morning;
Pleafure, and action, make the houres feeme Ihort :
Retire thee, goe where thou art billited.
Away I fay, thou lhak know more hereafter j
Nay get thee gon. Some things are to be done,
My wife mull moue for CaJ]lo to her millris,
I’le fet her on.
My felfe awhile, to draw the Moore apart,
And bring him inmpe, when he may CaJfio finde.
Soliciting his wife : I, that’s the way.
Dull not deuife by coldnelTe and dela^y.
Exeunt,
Enter CalTio, with mufitians and the Clowme. .
Caf, Makers, play here, I will content your paines,
Something that’s briefe, and bid good morrow generall.
Clo. Why mailers, ha your inflruments bin at Naples ^ that
they fpeake i’th nofe thus ?
Boy, How fir, how I
Clo. Are thefe I pray, cald wind' inflruments ? . ,
Bgy. I marry are they fir.
* ani fo,' ”1 a little imre, Tet*
Z 4 Clo .
The Tragedy of Othello
Cto. O, thereby hangs a tayle.
Boy. Whereby hangs a tayle fir ?
Clo, Marry lir, by many a \vinde inflrnment that I know »
But mafters, hcerc’s money for you, and the generall fo likes
your mufique, that hec defircs you of all hues X* make no
more noyfe with it.
Boy. Well fir, we will not.
Clo. If you hauc any muliquc that may not bee heard, to’t
againe, but as they faay, to heare mufiquc, the generall does
not greatly care.
Boy. We ha none fuch fir.
Clo. Then put your pipes in your bag, for Tie away ; goe,
vanifh § away.
Caf. Doefi: thou heare my honefi: friend ?
do. No, I heare not your honefi. friend, I heare you.
Caf. Preethee keepe vp thy quillets, there’s a poore peeca
of gold for thee : if the gentlew^oman that attends the gene-
rals wife be fllrring, tell her there’s one Caffio^ entreates her a
little fauour of fpeech — wilt thou doe this ?
Clo. She is flirring fir, if fhe will fiirre hither, I fliall feeme
to notifie vnto her.
Enter lago.
Caf. Doe good my friend : in happy time lago*
lag. You ha not bin a bed then,
Caf. Why no, the day had broke before we parted :
I ha made bold lagOy to fend in to your wife,-r-my fuite to her.
Is, that fhe will to vertuous Defdemona,
Procure me fome accefie.
lag. rle feed her to you prefently.
And He deuife a meane to draw the Moore
Out of the way, that your conuerfe and bufinefTe,
May be more free.
J/cr kuei fake, § vanyb Into aire.
Exit.
. THE Moore of Venice^
Caf, I humbly thanke you for it 1] ; I neuer knew
A Florentine more kinde and honeft.
Enter Emilia.
Em. Good morrow good lelutenant, I am forry
For your difpleafure, but all will foone be well.
The generall and his wife are talking of it.
And Hie fpeakes for you floutly : the Moore replies.
That he you hurt is of great fame in Cypres,
And great affinity, and that in wholefome wifedome.
He might not but refufe * but he protefls he loues you.
And needes no other fuitor but his likings.
To take the fafelf occafion by the front.
To bring you in' againe.
Caf. Yet I befeech you,
If you thinke fit, or that it may be done,
Giue me aduantage of fome briefe difcourfe
With Defdeniona alone,
Em, Pray 5'ou come in,
I will beftow you where you fhall haue time.
To fpeake your bofome freely f . Exeunt,
Enter Othello, lago, and other gentlemen,
0th. Thefe letters giue lago, to the pilate,
And by him doe my duties to the ffate ;
That done, 1 will be walking on the workes,
Jlepaire there to me.
lag. Well my good lord, Fie do’t.
0th, This fortification gentlemen, fhall wee fee’t ?
Cent. We waite vpon your lordfhip. Exeunt.
I|/orV. '* you omitted, f Caf, 1 am much bound to you,
The Tragedy of Othello
Enter Defdemona, Caffio and Emillia.
De/, Be thou aflur’d good CaJJio, I will doe
All my abilities in thy behalfe.
Em. Good madam do, I know it grieues my hulband,
As if the cafe were his.
Defd. O that’s an honeft fellow do not doubt CaJ/io,
But I will haue my lord and you againe.
As friendly as you were.
Caf. Bountious madnme,
What euer fhall become of Michael Caffio,
Hee’s neuer any thing but your true feruant.
Def. O fir, I thanke you, you doe lone my lord :
You haue knowme him long, and be you well allur’d,.
He fhall in ftrangeft, Aand no farther off.
Then in a politique diftance.
Caf. I but lady,
The * pollicy may either lalf fo long,
Or feede vpon fuch nice, and watrifh diet.
Or breed it felfe, fo out of circumflance,
That I being abfent, and my place fupplied,
My generall will forget my loue and feruice.
Befd. Doe not doubt that, before Emillia here,
I giue thee warrant of thy place ; affure thee
If I doe vowe a friendlhip, Tie performe it
To the laft article ; my lord lhall neuer reft,
I’le watch him tame, and talke him out of patience ;
His bed fhall feeme a fchoole, his boord a fhrift,
IMe intermingle euery thing He does.
With Cajfids fuite ; therefore be merry Caffio^
For thy foiliciter fhall rather die.
Than giue thee f caufe away. :
♦ rhat.
t
Enter
THE Moore of Venice,’.
Enter Othello, lago, and gentlemen*
Em, Madam, here comes my lord.
Caf. Madam, I’le take my leaue.
Defd. Why ftay and heare^me fpeake.
Caf, Madam not now, I am very ill at eafe,
Vnfit for mine owne purpofe,
Defd, Well, doe your difcretion.
Exit Caffioi
lag. Ha, I like not that.
0th. What doeft thou fay ?
Jag. Nothing my lord, or if, I know not what.
0th, Was not that Caffo parted from my wife ?
lag. CaJfiQ my lord ? — no fure, I cannot thiake it,
That he would fneake away fo guilty-like,
Seeing you comming.
0th. I doe beleeue twas he.
Defd. How now my lord,
I haue beene talking with a fuiter here,
A man that languifhes in your difpleafure.
0th. Who i’ft you meane ?
Def. Why your leiutcnant good my lord,
If I haue any grace or power to moue you.
His prefent reconfiliation take :
For if he be not one that truely loues you,
That erres in ignorance, and not in cunning,
I haue no iudgement in an honed: face,
I prethee call him backe.
0th, Went he hence now f
Defd. Yes faith, fo humbled,
. That he has left part of his griefes with me,
I fuffer with him ; good loue call him backe.
0th,
The Tragedy of Othello
0th. Not now fweete Defdemona * fome other time.
Dcfd. But (hal’t be ihortly ?
0th. The fooner fweete for you.
Defd. Shal’t be to night at fupper ?
0th. No, not to night.
Dcfd. To morrow dinner then ?
0th. I (hall not dine at home,
I meete the captaines, at the cittadell.
Defd. Why then to morrow night, or Tvefday morne.
On Tiiefday morne, or night, or Wenfday morne,
I preethee name the time, but let it not
Exceed three dayes : ifaith hee’s penitent.
And yet his trefpalTe, in our common reafon,
(Saue that they fay, the warres muft make examples,
Out of her heft) is not almoft a fault.
To incurre a priuate checke : when (hall he come ?
Tell me Othello: I wonder in my foule.
What you could a(ke me, that I (hould deny ?
Or ftand fo muttering on ? what Michael Cajfio ?
That came a wooing v;ith you, and fo many a time
When I haue fpoke of you dirpraiilngly,
Hath tane your part, to haue fo much to doe
To bring him in ? birlady f I could doe much.
0th. Preethee no more, let him come when he will,
I will deny thee nothing.
Defd. Why this is not a boone,
Tis as I (hould intreate you weare your gloues :
Or feede on nourhhing di(hes, or kee'pe you warme,
Or fue to you', to doe a peculiar profit
To your owne perfon : nay, when I haue a fultc.
Wherein I meane to touch your loue indeed,
It (liall be full of poife and difficulty
And fearefull to be granted.
^ Vf demon, 4- inttmring, f trujl me, | difiiuh •iccight.
THE Moore of Venice.
0th, I will deny thee nothing,
Whereon I doe befeech thee grant me this,
To leaue me but a little to my felfe.
Defd. Shall I deny you ? no, farewell my lord.
0th. Farewell my Defdemona^ Fie come to thee ftraight.
Defd. Emillia^ come, be it as your fancies teach you.
What ere you be I am obedient. Exit Defd. and Em.
0th. Excellent wretch, perdition catch my foule,
But I doe loue thee, and when I loue thee nor.
Chaos is come againe.
lag. My noble lord.
0th. What doeft thou fay lago P
lag. Did Michael Cajfio when you wooed my lady.
Know of your loue ?
Gth. He did from firfl to lafl: : — why doeft thou afke i
lag. But for a fatisfadlion of my thoughts |1.
No further harnie,
0th. Why of thy thought lago P
lag. I did not thinke he had beene acquainted with her.
0th, O yes, and went betweene vs very ^ten §.
lag. Indeed ?
0th. Indeed ? indeed, difern’ft thou ought in that ?
Is he not honeft ?
lag. Honeft my lord ?
0th. Honeft t I honeft.
lag. My lord, for ought I know.
0th. What doeft thou thinke ?
lag. Thinke my lord
0th. Thinke my lord.^ by heauen he ecchoes me *.
As if there were fome monfter in his I thought :
Too hideous to be fhewne : thou di<^ f meane fomething;
I heard thee fay but now, thou lik’ft not that,
II /Z ought. § eft. * -why doJl thou tcchoe mt, 4- "f
When
The Tragedy of OxHELib
When CaJJio left my wife : what didft not like'?
And when I told thee, he was of my counfell.
In my whole courfe of wooing, thou cridfl: indeed ?
And didfi contraiff, and purfe tliy brow together,
As if thou then hadfl: fhut vp in thy bralne.
Some horrible counfell X : if thou docfl loue me,
Shew me rhy thought.
lag. My lord, you know I loue you.
0th. I thinke thou doeff.
And for I know, thou art full of loue and honefty, .
And weigheft thy words, before thou giue [j em breath,
Therefore thefe flops of thine affright § me the more :
For fuch things in a falfe difloyall knaue.
Are trickes of cuflome ; but in a man that’s iufl.
They are clofe denotements-* ^ working from the heart,
That pafuon cannot rule.
lag. For Michael Caffio,
I dare prefume 4-, I thinke that he is honefl,
0th. J thinke fo to.
dag. Men fhould be that f they feeme.
Or thofe that be nor, would they might feeme none.
0th. Certaine, men fhould be what they feeme.
lag. Why then I thinke Caffio's an honefl man.
0th. Nay yet there’s more in this,
I preethee fpeake to 7nefX ^^7 thinkings :
As thou doefl ruminate, and giue the |||| worfl of thought,
The worfl of word.
lag. Good my lord pardon me ;
Though I am bound to euery a<51 of duty,
I am not bound to that all flaues are free to,
Vtter my thoughts ? v/hy, fay they are vile and falfe t
As where’s that pallace, whereinto foule things
J conceit, )| * dtlahons, 4- fzvorne.
-f ’tvbat, J:J; me as. |H1 thyr
Sometimes
THE Moore of Venice.
Sometimes Intrude not ? who has a breall fo pure,
But fome vncleanely apprehenfions,
Keepe leetes and law-dayes, and in feflion fit §
With meditations lawfull ?
0th. Thou doeft confpire againft thy friend lago^
If thou but thinkeft him wrongd, and makefl his eare
A Granger to thy thoughts.
lag. I doe befeech you,
Though I perchance am vicious in my ghelTe,
As I confe/Te it is my natures plague, ^
To fpy into abufes, and oft my iealoufie
Shapes faults that are not ; I intreat e you then
From one that fo imperfectly corners I,
Ton'd f take no notice, nor build your felfe a trouble.
Out of my fcattering, and vnfure obferuance ;
It were not for your quiet; nor your good,
Nor for my manhood, honefly, or wifedome,
To let you know my thoughts.
0th. Zouns %,
lag. Good name in man and woman's ||!| deere my lord ;
Is the immediate iewell of our foules :
Who llealesmy purfe, fteals trafli, tls fomething, nothing,
Twas mine, tis his, and has bin fiaue to thoufands :
But he that filches from me my good name,
Robs me of that, which not inriches him,
And makes me poore indeed.
0th. By heauen §§ Tie know thy thought
lag. You cannot, if my heart were in your hand,
Nor fhall not, whilft tis in my cuftody':
O beware iealoufie.
It is the greene eyd monfler, which doth mocke
§ ft. * that your wifeddme yet. 4- conceits, I- Would, f What
dof thou mean e ? [||| •woman. By heanjen orx\\XX^<i, ** thoughts,
4-f Uaf beware my lord* a, .
' * That
/
The Tragj:dy of Othello
Tlidt || meate It fccdes on. That cuckold Hues in bllflcy
Who certainc of his fate, hates § not his wronger :
But oh, what damned minutes tells he ore,
Who dotes, yet doubts, fufpecfls, yet flrongly loucs.
0th. O mifery.
lag. Poore and content, Is rich, and rich enough,
But riches, finclefic, is as poore as winter.
To him that eucr feares he fliall be poore :
Good God, the foules of all my tribe defend
From iealoufie.
0th. Why, why is this ?
Thinkft thou I’de make a life of iealoufie ?
To follow Hill the changes of the moone
With frefh fufpitions ? no, to be once in doubt,
Is once to be refolud : exchange me for a goate,
When I fii'all turne the bufinelTe of my foule
To fuch exufflicate, and biowne furmifes.
Matching thy inference : tis not to make me iealous,
To fay my wife is faire, feedes well, loues company,
Is free of fpeech, fings, playes, and dances well j
Where vertue is, thefe are more vertuous ;
Nor from mine owne weake merrits will I draw
The fmallefi: feare, or doubt of her reuolt.
For file had eles, and chofe * me : no lago^
I’le fee before I doubt, when I doubt, proue,
And on the proofe, there is no more but this :
Away at once with loue or iealoufie.
lag. I am glad of it, for now I fiiall haue reafon,
To fiiew the loue and duty that I beare you,
With franker fpirit : therefore as I am bound
Receiue it from me : I fpeake not yet of proofe,
Looke to your wife, obferue her well with CajJio\
Weare your eye thus, not iealous, nor fecure,
^ ihojir.%
jj Ihe. § hves.
I would
THE Moore of Venice.'
I would not haue your free and noble nature.
Out of Telfe-bounty be abus’d, looke to’t :
I know our countrey difpofition well.
In Venice they doe let Cod -j- fee the prankes
They dare f Ihew their hulbands : their bell: confcience,
Is not to leaue + vndone, but keepe || vnknowne.
0th. Doefi: thou fay fo.
lag. She did deceiue her father marrying you ;
And when fhe feem’d to fliake and feare your lookes,
She lou’d them moft.
0th. And fo’flie did.
lag. Why go too then.
She that fo young, could giue out fuch a feemlng,,
To feale her fathers eyes vp, clofe as oake,
He thought twas witchcraft : but I am much too blame,
1 humbly doe befeech you of your pardon,
For too much louing you.
0th. I am bound to thee for euer.
lag. I fee this hath a little daftat your fpirits.
0th. Not a iot, not a lot.
lag. Ifaith § I feare it has.
I hope you will confider what is fpoke.
Comes from my lone: but I doe fee you are moou’d,
I am to pray you, not to ftraine my fpeech.
To grofer iffues, nor to larger reach.
Then to fufpition.
0th. I will not.
lag. Should you doe fo my lord.
My fpeech fhould fall into fuch vile fucceffe.
As my thoughts aime not at : Caffio's my trufty friend :
My lord, I fee you are moou’d.
0th. No, not much moon’d,
J doe not thinke but Dejdemonas honed:.
4- Heaven. •j' J leav't. || kee^e't. § I'ruji me.
VoL. IV, A a . ^
I
The Tragedy of Othello '
lag. Long line fhe fo, and long Hue you to thinke fo.
0th. And yet how nature erring from it felfe.
lag. I, there’s the point : as to be bold with you.
Not to afFefl many propofed matches.
Of her owne clime, complexion, and degree.
Whereto we fee in all things, nature tends ;
Fie we may fmell in fuch a will, moft ranke
Foule difproportion : thoughts vnnaturall.
But pardon me : 1 doe not in pofition,
Deflincftly fpeake of her, tho I may feare
Her will recoyling to her better iudgement,
May fall to match you with her countrey formes.
And happily repent.
0th. Farewell, if more
Thou doeft perceiue, let me know more, fet on
Thy wife to obferiie : leaue me lago.
Jag. My lord I take my leaue.
0th. Why did I marry ? this honefl creature doubtlelTe
Sees and knowes more,- much more then he vnfoulds.
* My lord, I would I might intreate your honour,
lag. To fcan this thing no further, leaue it to time,
7ho it be jit f, that Cajfio haue his place.
For fure he fills it vp with great ability :
Yet if you pleafe to hold him off a while,
You fhall by that perceiue him and his meanes ;
Note if your lady flraine her entertainement,
With any flrong or vehement importunity.
Much will be feene in that, in the meane time.
Let me be thought too bufie in my feares.
As worthy caufe I haue, to feare I am ;
And Hold her free, I doe befeech your honour.
0th. Feare not my gouernement.
lag. I once more take my leaue. Exit.
0th
THE Moore of Venice.
0th. This fellowe’s of exceeding hQnefly,
And knowes all qualities, with a learned fpirit
Of humaine dealing : if I doe prooue her haggard,
Tho that her ielfes were my deare heart firings,
I’de whiflle her ofF, and let her downe * the wind.
To prey at fortune. Happily, for I am blacke.
And haue not thofe foft parts of conuerfatiori.
That chamberers haue, or for I am declinJ
Into the va!t f of yeares ; yet that’s not much,
Shee’s gone, I am abus’d, and my releife
Muft be to lothe her : O curfe of marriage.
That we call call thefe delicate creatures ours.
And not their appetites : I had rather be a to^ide.
And line vpon the vapor in a dungeon,
Then keepe a corner in a thing 1 lone.
For others vfes : yet tis the plague of great ones,
Prerogatiu’d are they lelle then the bafe,
Tis defleny, vnfhunnable, like death :
Euen then this forked plague is fated to vs.
When we doe quicken : De/demona comes,
If ihe be falfe, O then heauen mocks'it felfe,
rie not beleeue it.
Enter Defdemona and Emillia.
Befd. ^How now my deare Othello P
Vour dinner, and the generous ilander
By you inuited, doe attend your prefence. '
0th. I am to blame.
Def. Why is your fpeech fo faint ? are ybu not well ?
0th. I haue a paine vpon my forehead here.
Def. Faith 4- that’s with watching, t’will away againe ;
Let me but hmdi your head J, within this houre
It will be well againe §.
* dfivnc, '{' 4- tVhy J It hard.
A a 2
§ againe omitted.
The Tragedy of Othello
0th. Your napkin is too little:
Let it alone, come Tie goein with you.
Def. I am very forry that you are not well.
Em. I am glad I haue found this napkin,
Ex. 0th. and Defd.
This was her firfl remembrance from the Moore ;
My wayward hufhand, hath a hundred times
Wooed me to flcale it, but (he fo loues the token,.
For he coniur’d her, (he (hould euer keepe it.
That (he referues it euer more about her.
To khTe, and talke to ; I’Je ha the worke taine f out.
And glu’t lago : what hee’ll doe with it, N
Heauen knowes, not I,
I nothing know, but for [ his fantafie.
Enter lago.
lag. How now, what doe you here alope ?
Ejn, Doe not you chide, I haue a thing for you.
Jag. A thing fqr me, it is a common tiling.
Em. Ha?
lag. To haue a fooli(h thing §.
Em. O, is that all ? what will you giue me now.
For that fame handkercher * P
lag. What handkercher * P
Em. What handkercher * P
Why that the Moore firft gaue to Defdemona,
That which fo often you did bid me fleale.
lag. Ha’ft ftole it from her ?
Em. No faith, fhe let it drop by negligence.
And to the aduantage, I being here, took't J vp;
Looke here it is.
lag^ A good wench, glue it me, .
- -f fane, || but to J>UaJe. § wi/>, * bandkucbi^^e.
J toike it.
Em,
THE Moore of VENicEr
Em. What will you doe with It, that you haue bia
So earned to haue me filch it ?
lag. Why what’s that to you ?
Em. If it * be not for fome purpofe of import.
Glue mee’t againe, poore lady, fhee’ll run mad.
When (he fiiall lacke it. , '
lag. Be not you knoume f on’t, 1 haue vfe for it :
leaue me ; . * Exit
I will in Cajfio's lodging lofe this napkin,
And let him finde it : trifles light as ayre.
Are to the iealous, confirmations drong ' ^
As proofes of holy writ, this may doe fomething :f.
Dangerous conceits are in their natures poifons.
Which at the fird are fcarce found to didad.
But with a little art §, vpon the blood,
Ent. Othello;
Burne like the mindes || of fulphure : I did fay fo :
Looke where he comes, not poppy, nor mandragora,
Nor all the droufie firrops of the world.
Shall euer medicine thee to that fweete deepe.
Which thou owedd yederday.
0th. Ha, ha, falfe to me, to me ?
lag. Why how now gencrall ? no more of that.
0th. Auant, be gone, thou had fet me on the racke,
I fweare, tis better tor be much abus’d.
Then but to know ** a little.
Jag. How now; my lord ?
0th. What fenfe had I of her dolne houres of lull 5
I faw’t not, thought at not, it harm’d hot me,
I dept the next night well, was free, and merry ;
I found not Caffio's kifles on her lips,
* Ift. f ackno^ne. J 'fhs Miore already changei ivith my poijon.
j| piines, ** know't.
The Tragedy of Othello
ITe that Is rob’d, not wanting what is Aolne,
Let him not know’t, and hee’s not rob’d at all.
lag. I am forry to hcare this.
Olh. I had bin happy if the general 1 campc,
Pyoners, and all, had tajfled her fwecte body.
So I had nothing knowne : O now for euer
Farewell the tranquile mind, farewell content :
Farewell the plumed troope, and the big warres :
That makes ambition vcrtue : O farewell,
Farewell the neighing fieed, and the thrill trumpe.
The fpirit-ftirring drumme, the eare-peircing fife ;
The royall banner, and all quality.
Pride, pompe, and circumflance of glorious warre.
And O ye mortall engines, whofc wide throates.
The immortall hues great clamor counterfeit ;
Farewell, Othello's occupation’s gone.
lag. Id; podible my lord ?
0th. Villaine, befure thou proue my loue a whore,
Be fure of it, giue m.e the oculer proofe.
Or by the worth of mans ff eternall foule.
Thou hadd bin better haue beene borne a dog.
Then anfwer my wak’d wrath.
lag. Id come to this ?
0th. Make me to feed or at the lead fo proue It,
That the probation, beare no hinge, nor loope.
To hang a doubt on : or woe vpon thy life.
lag. My noble lord.
0th. If thou doed (lander her, and torture me,
Neuer pray m.ore, abandon all remorce.
pn horrors head, horrors accumilate :
Do deeds, to make heauen weepe, all earth amaz’d,
For nothing cand thou to damnation ad J:j: greater then that^
fag. O grace, O heauen defend me,
' dt U
Are
THE Moore of Venice.
Are you a man, haue yoii a foule or fence ?
God buy you, take mine §§ office, — O wretched foole
That liueft to make thine honefty a vice,
0 monflrous world, take note, take note, O world.
To be direfl and honeft, is not fafe,
1 thanke you for this profit, and from hence,
I’le loue no friend, fince loue breedes fuch offence.
0th, Nay flay, thou fhouldfl be honeft.
lag, I ffiould be wife, for honeflie’s a foole.
And loofes that it workes for : *
I fee fir, yon are eaten vp with paffion,
I doe repent me that I put it to you.
You would be fatisfied.
0th, Would, nay, I will.
lag. And may, but how, how fatisfied my lord ?
Would you, the fuperuifor f groffely gape on.
Behold her topt ?
0th, Death and damnation — oh.
lag. It were a tedious difficulty I thinke.
To bring em to that profpeff, dam em then.
If euer mortall eyes did fee them boulfter
More then their owne ; what then, how then ?
What ffiall I fay ? where’s fatisfadlion ?
It is impoffible you fhould fee this.
Where they as prime as goates, as hot as monkies,
* Oth. Bj tbs ’world
I thmke my nvife. is honeji^ and tbinke pe is not,
1 thinke that thou art juji, and tbinke. thou art not j
lie haue fame proof e : her name that "was as frep
As Dians uijage, is now begrimd, and black e
As mine owne face t if there be cords or kniues,
Peyfon, or fire, or juffocatingfireames,
lie not endure it : would I were fatisfied,
lag, I fee fir, &c.
•\ jupervifion.
Aa 4
As
The Tragedy of Othello
As fait as wolues, in pride ; and foolcsas grofTe,
As ignorance made drunke : but yet I fay, ’
If imputation and ftrong circum fiances.
Which leade direflly to the doore of truth.
Will giue yon fatisfaflion, you may ha’t.
0th, Giue me a liuing reafon, that fhec’s difloyalL
lag. I doe not like the office,
But full I am enter’d into this caufe fo farre,
Prickt to’t by foolifh honefly and loue,
1 will goe on : I lay with CaJJio lately,
And being troubled with a raging tooth, I could not deep.
There are a kinde of men fo loofe of foule.
That in their fleepes will mutter their affaires,
One of this kinde is CaJJlo :
In fleepe I heard him fay. Sweete Defdemona,
, Let vs be merry, let vs' hide our loues ;
And then fir, would he gripe and wring my hand.
Cry out, fweete creature, and then kiffe me hard.
As if he pluckt vp kiffes by the rootes.
That grew vpon my lips, then layed his leg
Ouer my thigh, and figh’d, and klffed, and then
Cried, curfed fate, that gaue thee to the Moore.
0th. O Monflrous, monflrous.
Jag. Nay, this was but his dreame.
Oth.'VtWt this denoted * a fore-gone conclufion,
t lag. Tis a fhrewd doubt, tho it be but a dreame,
And this may helpe to thicken other proofes.
That doe demonflratc thinly.
Oth. I’le teare her all to peeces.
lag. Nay, but be wife, yet we fee nothing done.
She may be honed yet, tell me but this,
* dtnoted.
•f This line is added to OtbelJo'i fpeecb, the next two are continued to lage,
Hauc
THE Moore of Venice.'
Haue you not fometlmes feene a handkercher,
Spotted with flrawberries in your wiues hand.
0th. I gaue her fuch a one, twas my firft gift.
lag. I know not that, but fuch a handkercher,
I am fure it was your wiues, did I to day
See CaJJlo wipe his beard with.
0th. If’tbe that.
lag. If it be that, or any, it was hers,
It fpeakes againft her, with the other proofes.
0th. O that the flaue had forty thoufand Hues,
One is too poore, too weake for my reuenge :
Now doe I fee tis time, looke here lago.
All my fond loue, thus doe I blow to heauen, — tis gone.
Arife blacke vengeance from thy hollow cell,
Yeeld vp O loue thy crowne, and harted throne.
To tirranous hate, fwell bofome with thy fraught.
For tis of afpecks tougues.
lag. Pray be content,
he kneeles,
0th. O blood, lago, blood,
Jag. Patience I fay, your mind perhaps may change.
0th. Neuer : *
In the due reuerence of a facred vow,
I here ingage my words.
lag. Doe not rife yet :
* Neuer lago ;
Like the Pontick fea
JVhoJe icy current and compuljlue course
Ne'r feels retiring ebbe, but keepes due on,
‘To the Propontick and the Hellefpont ;
Euen fo my bloody thoughts, ’with ’violent pace.
Shall ne're looke backe, ne* re ebbe to humble 'oue,
Till that a capeable and •wilde reuenge
S’wallo’w them up. Novi by yond marble leauen,
' lin, &c,
WltnelTe
The Tragedy op Othello
VJ\{.nt^cyou * euer-burning lights abooe.
You elements that clip vs round about.
lago kneeles.
WitnefTe that here, lago doth giue vp
The excellency f of his wit, hand, heart.
To wrong’d Othello's feruice : let him command.
And to obey, fliall be remorcc.
What bloody worke fo ener.
0th. I greete thy loue :
Not with vaine thankes, but with acceptance bounteous,
And will vpon the inflant put thee to’t, ,
Within thefe three dayes, let me heare thee fay.
That Cajfio's not aliue.
lag. My friend is dead :
Tis done as you requeft, but let her liue.
0th. Dam her lewd minks : O dam her.
Come, goe with me apart, I will withdraw
To furnifhme with fome fwlfc meanes of death.
For the faire diuell ; now art thou my leiu tenant.
lag. I am your owne for euer. • Exeunt.
Enter Defdemonla Emilia and the clowne.
Def. Do you know firra, where the leiu tenant Cajfio lies ?
Clo. I dare not fay he lies any where.
Bef. Why man ?
He t is a fouldier, and for one to fay a fouldler lies, is
tabbing'. '
Bef. Go to, where lodges he ? §
Clo, I know not where he lodges, -and for me to dcuife a
lodging, and fay he lies there, were to lie in my |1 throate
* the. -f- execution,
% Clo. He is, &c.
^ Clo. To tell you where be lodges, is to tell you where Hie,
Def. Can any thing be made of this f
- 11 mins owne. _ ^
' ' Def.
THE Moore of Venice*'
Befd, Can you inquire him out, and be edified by report ?
Clo. I will cathechize the world for him, that is, make
queflions
And by them anfw’er.
Defd, Seeke him, bid him come hither, tell him I hauc
moned my lord in his behalfe, and hope all will be well.
Clo. To doe this is within the compafTe of a man f, and
therefore Tie attempt the doing of it. Exit,
Defd. Where fhould I loofe that handkercher J Emillia ?
Em. I know not madam.
Def. Beleeue me, I had rather loofe my purfc
Full of crufadoes : and but my noble Moore
Is'true of minde, and made of no fuch bafeneffe.
As iealous creatures are, it were enough.
To put him to ill thinking.
Em. Is he not iealous.
Defd. Who he ? I thinke the fun where he was borne,
Drew all fuch humors from him.
Enter Othello.
Em. Looke where he comes.
Def. I will not leaue him now.
Let Caffio be cald to him : how is it with you my lord ?
0th. Well my good lady : O hardneffe to diffemble :
Flow doe you Defdemona ?
Def. Well, my good lord.
0th. Giue me your hand, this hand is moifl my lady,
Def. It yet has felt no age, nor knowne no forrow.
0th. This argues fruitfulnelTe and liberall heart.
Not II hot and moifl, this hand of yours requires
A fequefter from liberty : failing and praying,
Much cafrigation, exercife deuout ;
' F want Witte* f handkerchief* ]| Hot*
For
The Tragedy of Othello
For heere’s a young and fwetting diuell here.
That commonly rebels : tis a good hand,
A franke one.
Def, You may indeed fay fo,
For twas that hand that gaue away my heart.
0th, A liberall hand, the hearts of old gaue hands,
But our new herraldryds hands, not hearts.
Def, I cannot fpeake of this, come, come §, your promife,
0th. What promife chucke ?
Def, I haue fent to bid Cajfio come fpeake with you.
0th. I haue a fait and fullen rhume offends me.
Lend me thy handkercher
DeJ. Here my lord.
0th. That which I gaue you.
Def. I haue it not about me.
0th. Not. - « ’
Def. No faith 4- my lord,
0th. Thats a fault : that handkercher ^
Did an Egyptian to my mother giue,
She was a charmer, and could almofl reade
The thoughts of .people ; flie told her while llie kept it,
‘T’would make her amiable, and fubdue my father
Intirely to her loue: but if fhe loft it.
Or made a gift of it : my fathers eye
Should hold her lothely f, and hisfpirits fhould hunt
After new fancies : fhe dying, gaue it me.
And bid me when my fate would haue me wiue.
To giue it her ; I did fo, arid take heede on’t,
' Make it a darling, like your pretious eye.
To loofe, or giue’t away, were fuch perdition.
As nothing elfe could match.
Defd. rft pofTible ? ‘
§ nt'w* 4- [rideii. ♦ la>idhrchUfc. ’f loathed,
0th,
THE Moore of Venice.
0th. Tis true, there’s magicke in the' web of it,
A Sybell that had numbred in the world,'
' The fun to make :{: two hundred compalFes,
In her piophetlv^ue fury, fo^ved the worke; ’
The wormes were hallowed that did breed the hike,
And it was died in mummy, 'with || the Ikiifull
Conferues § of maidens hearts.
Def. Ifaith * i’ll: true ?
0th. Moh veritable, therefore looke to’t well.
Def. Then would to God, that I had neuer feene it.
0th. Ha, wherefore ?
Def. Why doe you fpeake fo Ifartingly and rafily f.
0th, rh: loft ? i’h: gone ? fpeake, is it out o’the way ?
Def. Heauen blefle vs.
0th. Say you ?
Def It is not loH, but what and if it were? '
0th. Ha.
Def I fay it is not loh.
0th. Fetch’t, let me fee It.
Def. Why fo I can fir, but I will not now.
This is a tricke, to put me from my fuite,
I pray let Caffio, be receiu’d againe.
0th. Fetch me that handkercher |1||, my mind mifglues.
Def. Come, come, you’ll neuer meete a more fufficient man.
0th. The handkercher 1!||.
§§ Def. I pray talke me of Cajfio.
0th. 7 he handkercher.
Def. A man that all his time,
Hath founded his good fortunes on your lone,
Shar’d dangers with you.
0th. The handkercher ||||.
Def. Ifaith ** you are too blame.
J courfe. II •which. § Concerve. * Indeed, "f- rajh, Heaven
omitted. \\\\ handkerchief e, §§ Thefe two fpeeches omitted. **Infooth,
Oth.
The Tragedy of Othello
0th. Zoiins §. Exlti^
Em. Is not this man iealous ?
Def. I ne’re faw this before :
Sure there’s fome wonder in this hdndkercher
I am moft vnhappy in the lojj'e -f.
Enter lago and Caflio.
Em. Tis not a yeere or two fhewes vs a man,
They are all but ftomacks, and vve all but foode ;
They eate vs hungerly, and when they are full.
They belch vs ; looke you, Cajfw and my hulband.
lag. There is no other way, tis (lie mufl: doe it.
And loe the happinefle, goe, and importune her.
Def. How now good CaJJio, what^s the news with you ?
Caf. Madam, my former fuite : I doebefeech yoii,
That by your vertuous meanes, I may againe
Exift, and be a member of his loue.
Whom I, with all the duty f of my heart,
Intirely honour, I would not be delayed :
If my offence be of fuch mortall kind.
That neither + feruice paft, nor prefent forrowes,
Nor purpos’d merrit, in futurity
Can ranfome me, into his loue againe,
But to know fo, mull be my benefit.
So {ball I cloth me in a forc’d content.
And Jlmte (| my felfe vp in fome other courfe, .
To fortunes almes.
Def. Alas thrice gentle Cajfio^
My aduocation is hot now in tune ;
My lord is not my lord, nor fliould I know him,
Were he in fauour, as in humor altred.
% Awa)', * bandhr chief e. office. % Iffiut.
.So
\
/
THE Moore of Venice.
So helpe me, euery fplrlt fanftified.
As I haue fpoken for you, all my belt.
And flood within the blanke of his difpleafure.
For my free fpeech : you muft a while be patient,
What I can doe I will, and more I will
Then for my felfe I dare, let that fuffice you.
lag. Is my lord angry ?
Em. He went hence but now.
And certainely in flrange vnquietnefle.
lag. Can he be angry ? I haue feene the cannon,
When it hath blowne his rankes into the ayre ,
And (like the diuell) from his very arme,
Puft his owne brother, and can he be angry >
Something of moment then : I will goe meete him,
There’s matter in’t indeed, if he be angry.
Defd. I preethee do fo : fomething fure of flate,
Either from Venice, or fome vnhatcht practice,
Made demonftrable here in Cypres to him.
Hath pudled his cleere fpirit, and in fuch cafes
Mens natures wrangle with inferior things,
Tho great ones are the obie(5f,
Tis euen fo : for let our finger ake.
And it endues our other heathfull members,
Euen to that fence of paine ; nay, we mufl thinkc
Men are not gods.
Nor of them looke for fuch obferuances
As fits the bridall : befhrew me much Emillia
I was, (vnhandfome, warrior as I am)
Arraigning his vnkindenffe with my foule ;
But now I finde, I had fubbornd the witneffe,
And hee’s indited falfly.
Em. Pray heauen it be flate matters, as you thinke.
And no conception, nor no kalous toy
Concerning you.
The Tragedy of Othello
Befd. Alas the day, I neuer gaue him caufe.
Em. But iealous foules will not be anfw.ered fo.
They are not eucr iealous for the caufe,
But iealous for they are iealous : tis a monfler.
Begot vpon it felfe, borne on itfelfe.
Defd. Heauen keepe that monfter from Othello's mind.
Em. Lady, amen.
Def. I will go feeke him, CaJJio, walke here about,
If 1 doe finde him fit. Tie moue your fuite.
And feeke to effe^l it to my uttermoft.
Exeunt Defd. and Emillia.
Caf. I humbly thanke your ladifhip.
Enter Bianca.
Bian. Sane you friend CaJJio.
■Caf. What make you from home ?
How is it with you my mofl: faire Bianca P
Ifaith* fweete loue I was comming to your houfe.
Bian. And I was going to your lodging Cajfw,
What, keepe a weeke away ? feuen daies and nights,
Eightfeore eight houres, and louers abfent houres.
More tedious then the diall, eightfeore times.
No weary reckoning.
Caf. Pardon me Bianca,
I haue this while with laden y thoughts bln prefl.
But I fhall in a more conuenient f time.
Strike off this fcore of ab fence : fweete Bianca,
Take me this worke out.
Bian. Oh Caffio, whence came this ?
This is fome token from a newer friend.
To the felt ab fence, now I'feele a caufe.
If! come to this ?
Caf Go to woman.
Throw your vile gheffes in the dluells teeth,
* Indeed. f leaden, J continuate.
From
THE Moore of Venice."
trdm whence you haue them, you are lealous now.
That this is from fome millrilfe, fome remembrance,
by my faith § Bianca.
Bian. Why who’s Ift ?
Caf. I know not fweete, I found it in my chamber,
I like the worke well, ere it be demanded,
As like enough it will, I’de haue it coppied.
Take it, and do’t, and leaue me for this time.
Bian. Leaue you wherefore ?
Caf I doe attend here on the generall,
And thinke it no addition, nor my wifh.
To haue him fee me woman’d.
Bian. But that you doe not loue me :
I pray you bring me on the way a little,
And fay, if I Ihall fee you foone at night.
Caf. Tis but a little way, that I can bring you.
For I attend here> but I’le fee you foone.
Bian. Tis very good, I muft be circumftanc’d.
Exeunt.
ACTUS IV.
Enter lago aiid Othello*
lag. Will you thinke fo ?
0th. Thinke fo lago.
lag. What, to kiffe in private ?
0th. An vnauthoriz’d kilTe.
lag. Or to be naked with her friend jibed.
An houre, or more, not meaning any harme.
0th. Naked a bed lago., and not ineane harme ?
It is hypocrilie againil the diuell :
They that meane vertiioufly, and yet doe fo.
The diuell their vertue tempts, and they tempt heauen ;
§ in good truth.
B b ^^g-
VoL. IV.
Tfte Tragedy of Othello
Jag. So they doe nothing, tls a veniall flip ;
But if I glue my wife a handkeKher
0th. What then ?
lag. Why then tis hers my lord, and being hers,
She may, I thinke, beflow’t on any man.
0th. She is prote(5lres of her honour to f,
May (he giue that ?
lag. Her honour is an eflence that’s not feene.
They haue it very oft, that haue it not :
But for the handkereher
0th. By heauen, I would mofl gladly haue forgot it t
Thou faidfl; (O it comes o’re my memory,"
As doth the rauen o’re the infefled houfe.
Boding to all.) He had my hanker cher *,
lag, I, what of that ?
0th. That’s not fo good now,
lag. What if I had faid I had feene him do you wrong ?
Or heard him fay (as knaues be fuch abroad)
Who hauing by their owne importunate fuite.
Or by the voluntary dotage of fome miftris,
Coniiinced or fupplied them, cannot chufe.
But they muft blab.
C^^^.'Hath he faid any thing ? '
lag. He hath my lord, but be you well aflur’d,
No more then hee’l vnfweare.
0th. What hath he faid ?
Jag. Faith § that he did — I know not what he did.
- 0th. But II what ? ' _
lag. Lye.
0th, With her ?
lag. With her, on her, what you will.
0th. Lie with her, lie on her .? We fay lie on her, when they
X Conjured, § Why, jj But omitted.
* bandkerchiefe, ■f' too.
’fHE Moore of Venice,'
belyherv lye with her, zounds, that’s fulfome, h^ndkcrchers,
confeffion, hankerchers **,
He fals downe f f .
lag, Worke on my medicine, worke : thus credulous foolea
are caught, and many worthy and chafte dames, euen thus
all guilt lejfe §, meets reproach ; what ho my lord, my lord I fay,
Othello, — how now CaJJio,
Enter Ca/Iio,
Caf. What’s the matter ?
lag. My lord is falne into art epilepfy,
This is his fecond fit, he had one yefterday,
Caf. Rub him about the temples.
lag. No, forbeare.
The lethergie, muR haue his quiet courfe,
If not he foames at mouth, and by and by
Breakes out to fauage madneffe : looke he Alrres :
Doe you withdraw your felfe a little while.
He will recouer Rraight, when he is gone,
I would on great occafion fpeake with you.
How is it generall, haue you not hurt your head ?
0th, DoeR thou mocke me J ?
lag, I mocke you ^ no by heauen.
Would you would beare your fortunes like a man.
0th, A horned man’s a monRer, and a beaR.
Jag. There’s many a beaR then in a populous dty,
And many a ciurll monRer.
0th. Did he confefTe ?
** ‘1 0 cenfejfe, and bt han^d for kU labour, ff to hi hang d, and then to cofi^
fejfe j I tremble at it : nature nvould not inveji herfif in fuch jhadoKving pojfion,
•without fome inflruBton : it is not •atords that Jhapes me thus, (pijhj nofes, eares,
and lippes : i'Ji pojfible ? corfeffe f handksrchiefe f 0 deuill.
'j'-t in a trance, ^ In a parenthefis. ^ ExiVCaiEo.
The Tragedy of Othello
lag^ Good fir be a man,
Thinke eiiery bearded fellow, that’s but yoak’d.
May draw with yon, there’s millions now aliue,
I'hat nightly lyes in thofe vnproper beds.
Which they dare fweare peculiar : your cafe is better:
0 lis the fpite of hell, the fiends arch mocke,
To lip a wanton in a fecure coach,
And to fappofe her chafle : no, let me know.
And knowing what I am, I know what fhe fhall be.
0th, O thou art wife, tis certaine.
lag. Stand you a while apart.
Confine your felfe but in a patient lifi::
Whilfi: you were here ere whiley mad * with your griefc,
A paflion mofl vnfuting 4- fuch a man,
CaJJlo came hither, I fliifted him away.
And layeJ good feufe, vpon your extacy.
Bid t him anon retire, and here fpeake with me.
The which he promifde : but incaue your felfe.
And marke the ieeres i\i€iibes |j, and notable fcorncs,
That dwell in euery region of his face ;
For I will make him tell the tale anew.
Where, how, how oft, how long agoe, and when,
He has, and is againe to cope your wife :
1 fay, but marke his ieafiure, mary patience.
Or I fhall fay, you are all in all, in fpleene,
And nothing of a man.
0th. Doeft thou heare lago,
I will be found mofl cunning in my patience j
But doefl thou heare, mofl bloody.
lag. 7 hat’s not amiffe :
But yet keepe time in all ; will you withdraw \
Now will I quefiion Cajfio of Bianca^
A hufwife that by felling her defires,
* OTJcr-whclmed. 4- i' Badg, | geera, j| gtles.
Buys
THE Moore of Venice.
Buys her felfe bread and cloathes : it is a creature,
That dotes on Cajfio : as tis the flrumpets plague
To beguile many, and be beguild by one,
Ent. Caflio.
He, when he heares of her, cannot refraine
From the excefle of laughter : here he comes :
As he (hall fmile, Othello fliall goe mad.
And his vnbookifh iealoufie muft confter
Poore CaJ]io\ fmiles, geflures, and light behauiour,
Quite in the wrong : how doe you now leiutenant I
Caf. The worfer, that you giue me the addition,
Whofe want euen kills me.
lag. Ply Defdemona well, and you are fure on’t.
Now if this fuite lay in Bianca'^ power.
How quickly Ihould you fpeed.
Caf. Alas poore catiue.
0th. Lookc how he laughes already.
lag. I neuer knew a woman loue man fo.
Caf. Alas poore rogue, I thinke faith * flie loues me,
0th. Now he denyes it faintly, and laughes it out.
lag. Doe you heare Caffio ?
0th. Now he importunes him to tell it on,
Goe to, well faid.
lag. She giues it out that you fhall marry her.
Doe you intend it ?
Caf. Ha, ha, ha.
0th. Doe you triumph Romany doe you triumph ^
Caf. I marry her ? f I prethee beare fome charity to my
wit.
Doe not thinke it fo vnwholefome : ha, ha, ha.
0th. So, fo, fo, fo X, laugh that wins.
* indeed. f wbat a cufiomer f I prethee, &C, J fo they,
B b 3 dag*
The Tragedy of Otheu,©
lag. Faith the cry goes, .you fhall marry her.
Caf, Prcethee fay true.
lag. I am a very villaiue elfe.
0th. Ha you Jior'd me well
Caf. This is the monkies own giuing out ; fhe is perfwaded
I wil marry her, out of her ovvne loue and flattery, not out of
my promife.
0th. lago beckons me, now he begins the flory.
Caf She was heere euen now, fhee haunts me in euery
place, I was tother day, talking on the fea banke, with certaine
Venetians j and thither comes this bauble, by this hand fhe f ah
thus * about my neck.
0th. Crying, O dc2LrQ CaJ/io, as it were: his ieflure Imports
it.
Caf. So hangs, and lolls 4-, and wecpes vpon me ; fo hales,
and puls me, ha, ha, ha.
0th. Now he tells how fhe pluckt him to my chamber,
J fee that nofe of yours, but not that dog I fhall throw’t to.
Caf. Well, I mufl: leaue her company.
Enter Bianca.
lag. Before me, looke where fhe comes,
Tis fuch another Jicho t ; marry a perfum’d one, what doe
you meane by this banting of me.
Bian. Let the diuel and his dam haunt you, what did you
meane by that fame handkercher t, you gaue mee euen now ?
was a fine foole to take it ; I mufl: take out the whole worke,
a likely peece of worke, that you fhould find it in your cham-
ber, and not know who left it there: this is fome minxes to-
ken, andJ muff take out the worke ; there, giue it the hobby
horfe, wherefoeuer you had it. Tie take out no worke on’t.
Caf How now my fweete Bianca. y how now, how now ?
0th. By heauen that fhould be my handkercher
§ fciar'd me "lOsU. ♦ fah me thus, ^ 4- f jitcbrjM, J handker chiefs.
Bian.
THE Moore of Venice^
■ Bian, An you’ll come to fupper to night, you may, an you
will not, come when you are next prepar’d for. Kxit,
lag. After her, after her,
Caf. Faith || I mufl, fhee’ll ralle i’the ftreete elfe.
lag. Will you fup there J ’
Caf. Faith * I intend fo. . .
lag. Well, I may chance to fee you, for I, would very faine
fpeake with you. ,
Caf. Preethee come, will you ?
lag. Goe to, fay no more. Exit Caffio.
0th. How fliall i murder him lago ?
lag. Did you perceiue, how he laughed at .his vice ?
0th, O lago.
lag. And did you fee the handkercher ?
0th. Was that mine?
0th I would haue him nine yeares a killing ; a fine wo-
man, a faire woman, a fweete woman.
lag. Nay you muft forget f.
0th. And let her rot and perifh, and be damb’d to night,
for file lhall not liue : no, my heart is turn’d to J:|: flone ; I
flrike it, and it hurts my hand : O the world has not a fweeter
creature, fhe might lie by an emperours fide, and command
him talkes,
lag. Nay that’s not your w^ay.
0th. Hang her, I doe but fay what {he is ; fo delicate with
her needle, an admirable mufition, O fhee will fmg the fa-
uagenefTe out of a beare ; of fo hye and plentious wit and in-
uention.
lag. Shee’s the worfe for all this.
0th. A thoufand thoufand times : and then of fo gentle a
condition.
II Ffiitb omitted, 1 Tcu fup tlere, * Ta, \. 0th.
t forget that. to 4.
B b 4 lag.
The Tragedy of Othello
lag. I, too gentle.
0th. I that’s certaine, but yet the pitty of it lagOy the pitij
la. If you be fo fond ouer her iniquity, glue her patent to
offend, for if it touches not you, it comes neere no body.
0th. I will chop her into mefles — cuckold me !
lag. O tis foule in her.
0th. With mine officer.
lag. That’s fouler.
0th. Get me fome poifon lago, this night Pie not expoflulate
with her, left her body and beauty vnprouide my minde
agen, this night lago.
lag. Doe it not with poifon, ftrangle her in her bed, euen
the bed fhe hath contaminated.
0th. Good, good, the iuftice of it pleafes very good.
lag. And for CaJJio, let me bee his vndertaker : you ffiall
heare more by midnight. A trumpet.
Enter Lodouico, Defdemona, and attendants,
0th. Excellent good :
What trumpet is that fame ?
Jag. Something from Venice fure, tis Lodouico^
Gome from the duke, and fee your wife is with him.
Lod. God faue the || worthy generall.
0th. With all my heart fir.
Lod. The duke and fenators of Venice greete you.
‘ 0th. I kifte the inftrument of their pleafures.
Defi. And what’s the newes good coufen Lodouico ?
lag. I am very glad to fee you feignior : — welcome to Cypres.
Lod. I thanke you, how does leiutenant Cajfio ?
lag Liues fir.
Def. Coufen, there’s falne betweene him and my lord,
4n ynkind breach, but you fliall make allwel}.
Qth. Are you fure of that ?
II Saveyeu.
THE Moore of Venice,
Def, My lord.
0th. This faile you not to doe, as you will. —
Lod. He did not call, hee’s bufie in the paper ;
Is there diuifion betweene § thy lord and Cajfio ?
Def. A moll vnhappy one, I would doe much
To attone them, for the loue I beare to CaJ/io.
0th. Fire and brimftone.
Def, My lord.
0th. Are you wife ?
Defd. What, is he angry ?
Lod. May be the letter mou’d him ;
For as I thinke, they doe command him home,
Deputing Cajfw in his gouernemcnt.
Defd. By my troth *, I am glad on’t.
0th. Indeed.
Def My lord.
0th. I am glad to fee you mad.
Def. How fweete Othello F
0th, Diuell.
Def I haue not deferu’d this.
Lod. My lord, this would not be beleeu’d in Venice^
Tho I ihould fweare I faw’t: tis very much.
Make her amends, fhe weepes.
0th. O diuell, diuell.
If that the earth could teeme with womens teares
Each drop ftie falls, would proue a crocadile :
Out of my fight.
Def. I will not flay to offend you.
Lod. Truely an obedient lady :
I doe befeech your lordfhip, call her backe,
0th. Miflriffe.
Def. My lord.
Pth.' What would you with her fir ?
§ f'H’/x/i * iruji mt*
Thp. Tragedy of Othello
Lod. Who, I my lord ?
0th. I, you did wifli that I would make her turnc :
Sir fhe can turne, and turne, and yet go on.
And turne againe, and (he can weepe fir, wcepe;
And fliee’s obedient, as you fay, obedient ;
Very obedient, proceed you in your teares.
Concerning this fir : O well painted paflion :
I an^ commanded here I • — get you away,
rje fend for you anon: — fir, I obey the mandat,
And will re turne to Venice : — hence, auant,
Cajfio fhall haue my place ; and fir to night
I doe intreate that we may fup together, .
You are welcome fir to Cypres, — goates and monkics.
Exit.
Lod. Is this the noble Moore, whom our full fenatc
Call all in all fufficient ? This the noble nature.
Whom paffion could not fhake ? Whole folid vertue.
The (hot of accident, nor dart of chance
Could neither graze, nor peircc ?
lag. He is much changed.
Lod. Are his wits fafe ? is he not light of bralne ?
lag. He’s that he is, I may not breathe my ccnfure.
What he might be, ifas he might, he is not,
I would to heauen he were.
Lod. What, flrike his wife.
lag. Faith that was not fo well ; yet would I knew
That flroake would proue the worft.
Lod. Is it his vfe ?
Or did the letters worke vpon his bloodt
And new create this fault ?
lag. Alas, alas.
It is not honefty in me to fpeake,
V7hat I haue feene and knowne, you fhall obferue hmi *,
l.bomgt • emitted. '
And
•THE Moore of Venice. .
And his owne courfes will denote him fo.
That I may fane my fpeech : doe but goe after.
And marke how he continues.
Lod. I am forry that I am deceiu’d in him.
Enter Othello and Emillia.
0th. You haue feene nothing then.
Nor euer heard, nor euer did fufpe^V. * '’• "
' 0th, Yes, and you haue feene CaJJio and Ihe together.
Em. But then I faw no harme, and then I heard
Each fillable that breath made vp betwecne 'em.
0th. What, did they neuer whifper I
Em. Neuer, my lord.
0th. Nor fend you out o’the way ^
Em. Neuer. *
' 0th. To fetch her /an, her malk, her gloues, nor nothing ?
Em. Ncner, my lord.
0th. That’s flrange. ’ ‘ -
Em. I durft my lord, to wager fhe is honefl', ‘ "
Lay downe my foule at Bake ; if you thinke other, ^
Remoue your thought, it doth abufe yourbofpme.
If any wretch ha put this in your head.
Let heauens requite it f with the ferpents curfe.
For if fhe be not honeft, chaflc, and true,
There’s no man happy, the pureft of her fex f
Is foule as flander.
. Exit Emillia,
0th. Bid her come hither, goe.
She fayes enough ; yet (he’s a fimple bawde.
That cannot fay as much : this is a fubtle whore,
A clofet, locke and key, of villainous fecrets.
And yet Ihee’ll kneele and pray, I ha feene her do’t.
L Heaven require it. 1 their wives,
Efiiet
The Tragedy or Othello
Enter Defdemona and EmillU.
Def. My lord, what is your will ?
0th. Pray chucke come hither.
Def. What is you pleafure ?
0th, Let me fee your eyes looke in my face.
Def. What horrible fancy’s this ?
0th. Some of your function miftrefTe,
Leaue procreants alone, and fhut the dore,
Coffe, or cry hem, if any body come,
Your miftery, your miftery *. nay difpatch.
Exit Em. §
Def. Vpon my knees, what does your fpcech import ?
I vnderftand a fury in your words.
But not the words.
0th. Why, what art thou ?
Def. Your wife my lord, your true and loyall wife.
0th. Come, fweare it, dam thy felfe
Leaft being like one of heauen, the diuells themfelues
Should feare to ceafe thee, therefore be double dambd,
Sweare thou art honeft.
Def. Heauen doth truely know it,
0th. Heauen truely knowes, that thou art falfe as hell.
Def. To whom, my lord, with whom ? how am I falfe ?
0th. O Defdemona^ away, away, away.
Def. Alas the heauy day, why do you weepe ?
Am I the occafion of thofe tea res my lord ?
If haply you my father doe fufpe<n:, * • •
An inftrument of this your calling backe.
Lay not your blame on me ; if you haue left j| him.
Why I haue left || him too.
0th. Had it pleas’d heauen
To try me with affli^Hon, had he ram’d
^ Exit, &c. omitted, Jj
All
THE Moore of Venice;
All kindes of fores, and fhames on my bare head,
Steep’d me in pouerty, to the very lips,
Giuen to captiuity, me and my hopes,
' I fliould haue found in fome part of my foule
A drop of patience ; but alas, to make me
A fixed figure, for the time of fcorne,
To point his flow \nmomvigJingers * at — oh, oh.
Yet could I beare that too, well, very well.
But there : where I haue garner’d vp my heart.
Where either I mufl: liue, or beare no life.
The fountaine, from the which my currant runnes.
Or elfe dryes vp, to be difcarded thence.
Or keepe it as a ceflerne, for foule toades
To knot and gender in : turne thy complexion there.
Patience thy young and rofe-lip’d cherubin,
I here lookegrim as hell.
Def. I hope my noble lord efleemes me honefl:.
0th. O I, as fummers flies, are in the fhamblcs.
That quicken euen with blowing ;
O thou blacke weede, why art fo louely faire ?
Thou fmeU’fl: fo fweete, that the fence akes at thee.
Would thou hadfl: ne’re bin borne.
Def. Alas, what ignorant finne haue I committed ?
0th. Was this faire paper, this mofl; goodly booke.
Made to write whore on f ? — What, committed ? J
Heauen flops the nofe at it, and the moone winkes.
The bawdy wind, that kifles all it meetes.
Is hufht within the hallow mine of earth.
And will not hear’t : — what committed, — impudent flrumpet ?
* finger. 'J' ’vpon.
Committed : oh thou fublick commoner ;
1 fnould make very forges of my cbeekes.
That iveuld to cinders hurne up modefiiey
Did I but /peak thy deedss : vjbat committed f
Heauen, &c.
Thb Tragedy op Othello
t>ef. By heauen you doe me wrong.
0th. Are not you a flrumpet ?
Def. No, as I am a Chriftian :
If to preferue this veflell for my lord.
From any hated §§ foule vnlawful touch.
Be not to be a flrumpet, I am none,.
0th. What, not a whore ?
Def. No, as I fhall be faued.
, Enter Emillia *.
0th. lil pofTible ?
Def. O heauen forgiueneffe f
0th. I cry you mercy J,
I tooke you for that cunning whore of Venice^
That married with Othello : you miftrifTe,
That haue the office oppofite to S. Peter,
And keeps the gates in hell, /, you, you, you 5 ;
We ha done our couiTe ; there’s money for your paines,
I pray you turne the key, and keep our counfell. Exit^
Em. Alas, what does this gentleman conceiue ?
How doe you madam, how doe you my good lady ?
Def. Faith halfe afleepe.
Em. Good madam, what’s the matter with my lord ?
Def With who?
Em. Why with my lord madam ||.
Def. I ha none, doe not taike to me Emillia,
I cannot weepe, nor anfwer haue I none,
But what fliould goe by water : preethee to night ■
Lay on my bed our ** wedding fheetes, remember,
And call thy hufband hither.
Em. Here is a change indeed. Exit.
other * Enter, omitted. forgive us ! J mercy then,
^you, you, I you.
11 Def. mo is thy lord?
'Em. He that is yours, fweet lady.
THE Moore of Venice.
Def, Tis meete I (hould be vfde fo, very well ;
How haue I bin behau’d, that he might fticke
The fmalleft opinion, on my great eft abufe f.
Enter lago, ^nd Einillia.
lag. What is your pleafure madam
How ill with you ?
DeJ, 1 cannot tell : thofe that doe teach young babes
Doe it with gentle meanes, and eafie talkes.
He might ha chid me fo, for in good faith,
I am a child at § chiding.
lag. What is the matter lady ?
Em. Alas lagOy my lord hath fo bewhor’d her,
Throwne fuch defpite, and heauy termes vpon her.
As true hearts cannot beare.
Def. Ami that name lago ?
Jag. What name faire lady ?
Def. Such as flie fayes my lord did fay I was ?
Em. He call’d her whore : a begger in his driake,
Could not haue layed fuch tearmes vpon his callet.
lag. Why did he fo ?
Def. I doe not know, I am fure I am none fuch.
lag. Doe not weepe, doe not weepe : alas the day,
Em. Has fhe forfooke fo many noble matches.
Her father, and her country, all J her friends,
To be cald whore ? would it not make one weepe ?
Def It is my wretched fortune.
lag. Beflirew him for it ; how comes this trickc vpon him ?
Def Nay, heauen doth know.
Em. I will be hang’d, if Ibrne eternall villaine.
Some bufie and infmuating rogue,
Some cogging, coufening llaue, to get fome office,
Haue not deuifde this flander, I’le be hang’d elfe.
Jag, Fie, there is no fuch man, it is impoffible.
-J- hajl miftife, § lo f and.
The Tragedy of Othello
Def. If any fuch there be *, heauen pardon him.
Em. A halter pardon him, and hell gnaw his bones :
Why (hould he call her whore ? who keepes her company
What place, what time, what forme, what likelihood :
The Moore’s abus’d by fome outragious knaue :
Somebafe notorious knaue, fome fcuruy fellow,
0 heauen, that fuch companions thou’dH vnfold,
And put in euery honefl: hand a whip.
To lalh the rafcall naked through the world,
Euen from the eaft to the well.
lag. Speake within dores.
Em. O fie vpon him ; fome fuch fquire he was,
That turnd your wit, the feamy fide without.
And made you to fufpe(fi: me with the Moore.
lag. You are a foole, goe to.
Def. O good lago.
What (hall I doe to win my lord agalne ?
Good friend goe to him, for by this light of heaueil,
1 know not howl loft him. f
lag. I pray you be content, tis but his humour,
The bufineffe of the ftate does him offence.
And he does chide with you.
* arc.
Here Ikr.eetr
If ere my nuMl did trefpajfe 'gairft bis loue^
Either in difeourje, or thought, or aFtusll deed
Or that mine eyes, mine eareSy or any fence
Delighted them in any other forme j
Or that I doe not yet, and euer did.
And ever toill ( though he do Jhake me off
T » ^ggerly diuorcement, ) lout him deerely :
Qimfort forfweare me j unkindnejfe may do muihy
And his ur.kindr.efs may defeat my life.
But neuer taint my hue, I cannot fay •whore.
It doth abborre me, nokv I fpeake the •word,
Tc do the aEi, that might tf addition earne.
Nit the •worlds rr.affe of •vanity could male tee.
THE 'Moore of Venice,
Def. If t’were no other.
lag. Tis but fo, I warrant you,
tiarke how thefe inftruments fummon you to fupper,
And the I great mefTengers of Venice hay,
Goe in, and weepe not, all things fhall be well.
Exit 'women.
Enter Rodengo.
How now Roderigo P
Rod. I doe not finde that thou dealil iufily with me*
lag. What in the contrary ^
Rod. Euery day, thou dofftll me, with fome deuife lago ;
And rather, as it feemes to me, thou || keepeh. from me,
All conueniency, then fupplieh me, with the leaft
Aduantage of hope : I will indeed no longer indure it.
Nor am I yet perfwaded to put vp in peace, what already
I haue foolilhly fufFerd.
lag. Will you heare me Roderigo P
Rod. Faith § I haue heard too much, for your words.
And performance are no kin together.
lag. You charge me moft vniuhly.
Rod, 1 haue * wahed liiy felfe out of meanes : the iewels you
haue had from me, to deliuer to Defdemona, would halfe haue
corrupted *a votarih : you haue told me fhe has receiu’d em,
and return’d mee expe<9:at!on, and comforts, of fuddaine re-
fpeft, Viini acquittance But I finde none.
lag. Well, goe to, very good ||||.
Rod. Very well, goe to, I cannot goe to rnan, it is not very
well, by this hand I fay tis very feUruy, and 'begin to
'finde my felfe fopt in it.
lag. Very well.
\Rod. I fay it is not very well i I will make my felfe knowne
to Defdemona, if fhe will returne me my iewels, I will giue
;|; The meate. ]| naiv. § Sir. * JVith nought hut truth : / haue.
.J, acquaintance, |j[j well. ** hy thh handy oraitte*i.
VoL. IV. Cc
oaer
The Tragedy of Othello
ouer my fuite, and repent my vnlawfull follidtatlon, if not,
a/Ture your felfe I’le feeke fatlsfadion of you.
lag. You hane faid now.
Rod. I, and I haue faid nothing, but what I protcft entend-
ment of doing.
lag. Why now I fee there’s mettle In thee, and euen from
this time * doe build on thee, a better opinion then euer be-
fore, giue me thy hand Roderigo : thou haft taken againft me
a moft iuft conception, but yet I proteft, I haue delt moft di;
reftly in thy affaires f.
Rod. It hath not appeared.
lag. I grant indeed it hath not appear’d, and your fufpitlon
is not without wit and iudgement : but Roderigo, if thou haft
that within thee indeed, which I haue greater reafon to be-
leeue now, then euer, I meane purpofe, courage, and valour,
this night ftiew it, if thou the next night following enioyeft
not Defdemona, take mee from this world with treachery, and
deuife engines for my life.
Rod, Well, is it within reafon and compafTe ?
lag. Sir, there is efpeciall command come from Venice^
To depute Caffo in Othello\s place.
Rod. Is that true ? why then Othello and Defdemona,
Returne againe to Venice.
Jag. O no, he goes into Mauritania, and takes away with
him
The faire Defdemona, vnlefte his abode be linger’d
Here by fome accident, wherein none can be fo
Determinate, - as the remouing of Caffio.
Rod. How doe you meane remouing of him ?
lag. Why, by making him vncapable of Othello's place.
Knocking out his braines.
Rod. And that you would -haue me to doe.
lag. I, and if you dare doe your felfe a profit, and right,
hee fups to night with a harlot J, and thither will I goe to
* ingant, f a fiu'e. J barlctn:,
■ . . - him ;
„THE Moore ot VENicEr
him ; he knowes not yet of his honourable fortune : If you
will watch his going thence, which I will falhion to fall out
betweene twelue and one, you may take him at your pleafure ;
I will be neere to fecond your attempt, and hee (hall fall be-
tweene vs : come, fland not amaz’d at it, but goe along with
mee, I will Ihew you fuch a neceffity in his death, that you
fhall thinke your felfe bound to put it on him. It is now high
fupper time, and the night growes to waft : about it.
Enter Othello, Defdemona, Lodouico, Emillia, aiid at^
tendants.
Rod. I will heare further reafon for this.
Jag. And you fhall be fatisfied.
Ex. lag. and Rod.
Lod. I do befeech you fir, trouble your felfe no further.
0th O pardon me, it fhall doe me good to walke.
Lod. Madame, good night, I humbly thanke your ladiflilp,
Def. Your honour is moft welcome*
0th. Will you walke fir : — O Defdemona'.
Def My lord.
0th. Get you to bed, o’the inftant I will be return’d, forth-
with, difpatch your attendant there, — looke it be done.
Exeunt.
Def. I will myjord.
Em. How goes it now ? he lookes gentler then he did.
Def. He faies he will returne incontinent :
He hath commanded me to goe to bed,
And bad me to diftnilfe you,
Em. Difmiffe me ?
Def. It was his bidding, therefore good Emilliay
Giue me my nightly wearing, and adiue.
We muft not now difpleafe him. «
Em. IX would you had neuer feene him.
Def. So would not I, my loue doth fo approue him,
-f- /, omitted,
C C 2
That
The Tragedy of Othello
That ciien his ftubbornenefTe, his checks and frownes.
Prethee vnpin me, haue grace and fauour in them.
Ein. I haue laied thefe fheetes you bade me, on the bed.
Bef. All’s one good faith * : how foolifh are our minds ?
If I doe die before thee, prethee flirowd me
In one of thofe fame fheetes.
Em, Come, come, you talke.
Def, My mother had a maid cald Barbary,
She was in loue, and he flic lou’d, prou’d mad.
And did forfake her, fhe had a fong of willow,
An old thing ’twas, but it exprefi her fortune.
And fhe died Tinging it, that fong to night,
Will not goe from my mind f — harke, who’s that knocks ?
* father.
-J. I haw v'Mch t6 doe
But to goe bang my head all at one fide and fmg it like f core Bkthzry j prithee
dijpa'ch.
Em. Shall I goe fetch your night goivnet’
Def. No, unpin me here. ^
^hh Lodovico is a proper man.
Em. A very handfome T>:an.~ . - , ^ ^
Def. He fpeakes <zvell.
Em. I kneno a lady in Venice, would have walk'd ha* e footed to Palcftinq^'
for a. touch of his neither lip.
f ' . • DefdemonayJfli-f.
^ be pccre foule fat Jighirg by a ficajKour tree ' r ' ■ ' '
firg all a green willow, i _ j
Her band on her bofotne, h^r head on her knee,
fmg wil'ow, willow, willow, • / .
The frejh fireames ran by her, and murmur'd her moanes,
fmg willow, vnllow, willow.
Her fait tear es fell from her, which f of tened the fients,
fingwillow, £cc, ( Lay by thefe. )
willow, willow,
(Prethee hie thee, he'le come anon)
Sing dll a greene willow muji be my gaclar.d
Let no body blame him, his fcorne J approve t ' ,
Nay tbatsnot next — liarke, &c»
Em,
THE Moore of Venice,
Em, It is t the wind. J
Def. Now II get thee gone, good night :
Mine eyes doe itch, does that bode weeping ^
Em. Tis neither here nor there, §
Def. Wouldft thou doe fuch a deed, for all the world ?
Em. Why would not you.
Def. No, by this heauenly light.
Em, Nor I neither, by this heauenly Tight,
I might doe it as well * in the darke. '
Def. Would thou doe fuch a thing |j|| for all the world ?
Em. The world is a huge thing, it is a great price,
For a fmall vice.
Def, Good §§ troth I thinke thou wouldH: not.
Em. By my ** troth I thinke I fhould, and vndo’t when I
had done it, mary I would not doe fuch a thing for a ioynt
ring ; or for meafures of lawne, nor for govvnes, or petti-
cotes, nor caps, nor any fuch *|1 eKhibition ; but for the whole
world ? vds fitty *§, who would not make her hulband a
cuckold, to make him a monarch ? I fhould venture purgatory
for it.
Def BeQirew me, if I would doe fuch a wrongs
For the whole world.
Em. Why, the wrong is but a wrong i’the world ; and
hauing the world for your labour, tis a wrong ia your owne
world, and you might quickly make it right.
■f Th.
J Def. I call'd my lovefalfe, but zchat ful l he then F
ftng ’willo'W, wiIloTVy ’Willed,
Jf I court mo' •women, youle couch •with mo men.
11 s,.
^ Def. 1 ha^ve beard it faid fo : 0 thefe men, thejement
Doji thou in confcience thinke ( tell Emi ia j
That there be •women •who ahufe their husbands
Jn juch groJJ'e kinds ?
* as •well doe it. XXWouldJl, '^^''\deede. ** In.
ted. *11 *t ^ omitted.
c c 3
» ;J, or omU-
Dcf
The Tragedy of Othello
Def. 1 doe not thlnke there is any fuch woman.
Em. Yes, a dozen, and as many to the vantage, as would
{lore the world they played for. *
Def. Good night, good night: God\. me fuch vfage -j fend*
Not to picke bad from bad, but by bad mend. Exeunt,
ACTUS V. II
Enter lago and Roderigo.
lag. Here Rand behind this bulke, ftraite will he come,
Wearc thy good rapier bare, and put it home,
Quicke, quicke, feare nothing, Tie be at thy elboe;
It makes vs or it marres vs, thinke of that,
And fixe moft | firme thy refolution.
Rod. Be neere at hand, I may mifearry in’t.
lag. Here at thy hand, be bold, and take thy fword
Rod. I haue no great deuotion to the dead 1 J ;
And yet he has giiien me fatisfying reafons,
Tis but a man gone : forth my fword, he dies.
* But J doe tklnke it is their husbands faults,
JJ ’wi'ves doe fall : ( fay (ha^ they fack their duties.
And poure cur treafures into forreigne laps.
Or elfe breakeout inpepvijh jealoujies,
Throwing rejiraint upon us ; or Jay they frih: us.
Or fcant our former haming in defpight)
Why We have galles, and t bo we have feme grace,
Yet have noe f me revenge : let husbands know
Their wives have fence like them ; they fee, and fm ell.
And have their pallats both for fweet and fo^ure.
As husbands have : what is it that they doe
When they change us for otLc'S f is it fport ?
J thinke it is ; and doth affeftion breed it f
I thinke it doth j is't frailty that thus erres V
Jt is fo too J and have not we affeclions ?
Defres for fport ? and frailtie as men have f
Then let em ufe us well, elfe let em kr.oWy
The ills we doe, their ills inJiruS us fo.
jfheauen, ufes. || Scoeiia J. \more, ** Jiand,
It dttd J
la:
THE Moore of- Venice.'
lag, I haue rubd this ^o\^xiggnat (||| almoft to thefeafe,
And he growes angry now : whether he kill CajJiQy
Or CaJJio him, or each doe kill the other,
Euery way makes my game ; line Roderigo,
He calls me to a reiditution large.
For gold and iewells, that I bobd from him.
As gifts to Defdemona : ' >
It mufl not be, if CaJJio doe remaine.
He has a daily beauty in his life,
That makes me vgly ; and befides, the Moore
May vnfould me to him ; there fland I in * perrill ;
No, he mu ft die, be’t fo, I heare him comming.
Ent, Caf.
Rod. I know his gate, tis he, villaine thou died:.
Caf. That thruft had bin my enemy indeed.
But that my coate is better then thou think'Jl f .
I will make proofe of thine.
. Rod. O I am dalne.
Caf. I am maind J for euer, light ho, murder, murdsr ||.
9
Enter Othello.
0th. The voice of Caffio, lago keepes his word.
Rod. O villaine that I am.
0th. Harke tis euen fo. ‘
Caf O helpe ho, light, a furgeon.
0th. Tis he, O braue lago, honed and iud,
That had fuch noble fence of thy friends wrong,
Thou teached me ; - minion, your deare lies dead.
And your fate hies apace § ; drumpet I come ;
Forth of my heart, thofe charmes thine eyes are blotted.
Thy bed lud-daind, fhall with luds blood be fpotted. Ex.
llll f mucbt J maitndC || nturdtr omitted.
^ unblefi fatchui.
C c 4 Ent§r
The Tragedy of Othello
^Entcr Lodouico and Gratiano.
Caf. What ho, nb watch, no paflage, murder, murder.
Grat. Tis fome mifchance, the cry is very direfull.
Caf. O helpe.
• hoi. Harke.
Rod. O wretched villaine.
hod. Two or three grones, it is a heauy night,
Thefc may be counterfeits, let’s ihink’t vnfafe
To come into the cry without more helpe.
Rod. No body come, then fhall I bleed to death.
Enter lago 'loith a light.
hod. Harke.
Grat. Here’s one comes in his fliirt, with lights and wca
pons.
lag. Who’s there ? whofe noife is this, that cries on mur
der.
hod. I doe not know.
lag. Did not you heare a cry ?
Caf. Here, here, for heauens fake helpe me.
lag. What’s the matter.
Grat. This is Othello's ancient, as I take it.
hod. The fame indeed, a very valiant fellow.
lag. What are you here, that cry fo greeuoufly ?
Caf. lago, O I am fpoil’d, vndone by villaines,
Giue me fome helpe.
lag. Omy* leiutenant : what villaines haue done this ?
Caf. I think e the one of them is heere about.
And cJtnnot make away.
lag. 0 treacherous villaines :
What are you there ? come in and giue fome helpe.
THE Moore of Venice,"
Rod. O, helpe me here.
Caf. That’s one of em.
lag. O murderous flaue, O, villaine.
Rod. O dambd O jnhumaine-dog, — O, O, O.
la. Kill hipi i’thc dark ? where be thofe bloody thjeeues?
How filent is this towne ? ho, murder, murder ;
What may you be, are you of good or euill ?
Lod. As you fhall proue vs, praife vs.
lag. Seignior Lodouico.
Lod He fir.
lag. I cry you mercy : here’s Cajfio hurt by villa! oes,
Grat. C ijjio.
lag. How is it brother ?
Caf. My leg is cut in two.
lag. Mary heauen forbid :
Light gentlemen, I’le bind it with my fhirt.
Enter Bianca.
Bian What is the matter ho, who iA that cried,?
lag. Who iA that cried.
Bian. O my deare CaJfio, O my fw'eete CaJ/io, CaJfio^ Cajfa^
lag. O notable Arumpet : Caffio may you fufpecA
Who they fiiould be, that thus hauc mangled you ?
Caf. No.
Cra. I am forry to find you thus, I haue bin to feeke you.*
Bian. Alas he faints, O Cajfio ^ Cajfio ^ Cajfio.
lag. Gentlemen all, I doe fufpedt this trafli
To beare a part in this : patience a while good Cajfo :
Lend me a light 5 know we this face, or no ?
Alas my friend, and my deare countrey man :
Roderigo ? no, yes fure : 0 heaiien 1| Roderigo.
* lag. Lend me a garter t /qt a ihtnreti beare bimeafilj beifcc,
8
Cra,
The Tragedy op Othello.
Grd* q{ Venice?
Jag Euen he fir, did you know him ?
Cra. Know him ? I.
Jag. Seignior Gratianoy I cry you gentle pardon
Thcfe bloody accidents muft excufe my manners.
That fo negle<^>ed you.
Gra. I am glad to fee you.
lag. How doe '^oxx.CaJJio O a chaire, a chairc.
Gra. Roderigo.
lag. He, tis he : O that’s well faid, a chaire :
Some gbod man beare him carefully from hence,
rie fetch the generalls furgeon': for you miflrifTe,
Saue you your labour, he that lies flaine here CaJJloy
Was my deare friend, what malice was betwixt you ?
Caf. None in the world, nor doe I know the man.
lag. What, looke you pale ? O beare him out o’th airc.
Stay you good gentlewoman, looke you pale miHrifle ?
Doe you perceiue the ieaftures of her eye.
Nay, an you ftirre, we (hall haue more anon :
Behold her well I pray you, looke vpon her,
Doe you fee gentlemen ? nay guiltinelTe
Will fpeake, though tongues were out of vfe.
Enter Em.
Em. *Las what’s the matter ? what’s the matter hufband ?
lag. Caffio has here bin fet on in the darke.
By Roderigo y and fellowes that are fcap’t,
Elee’s almofl flaine, and Roderigo dead.
Em. Alas good gentleman, alas good Cajfio.
Jag. This is the fruite of whoring, fray * Emillia,
Coe know of Cajffioy where he fupt^to night :
What, doe you (hake at that ?
• prithee.
Bian,
THE Moore of Venice. V
Blan. He fupt at my houfe, but I therefore lhake not.
lag. O did he fo, I charge you goe with me.
Em. Fie, jie § vpon theeftrumpet.
Bian, I am no ftrumpet, but of life as honeft.
As you, that thus abufe me.
Em. As I : foiigh*^ fie vpon thee.
lag. Kind gentlemen, let’s goe fee poore Cc^w dreft,
Come miffreffe, you muff tell’s another tale.
Emilliay runne you to the cittadell.
And tell my lord and lady what has hapt :
Will you goe on, I pray, this is the night.
That either makes me, or foredoes me quite.
ExeimU
Enter Othello with a light, f
0th. It is the caufe, it is the caufe, my foule,
Let me not name it to you, you chafle flarres;
It is the caufe, yet Tie not fhed her blood,
Nor fcarre that whiter fkiii of heis, then fnow.
And fmooth, as monumentall alablafler ;
Yet fhe mufl: die, elfe fhee'll betray more men.
Put out the light, and then put out the light:
If I quench thee, thou flaming miniflcr,
I can againe, thy former bght feftore.
Should I repent me; but once put out thine,
Thou cunning patterne of excelling nature,
I know not where is that Promethian heate.
That can thy light retiirne i : when I haue pluckt the rofe,
I cannot giue it vitall growth againe,
It mufl needes wither ; Pie fmell it on the tree,
A balmy breath, that doth almofl: perfwade
§ omitr.ed, ♦ now, F and De/demona in bed, ^ relumine.
luflice
The Tragedy of Othello
luAlce her felfe to breake her /word once more |],
Be thus, when thou art dead, and I will kill thee.
And loue thee after : once 4- more, and this the laft.
He kijfes he%.
So fweete was ne’re fo fatall : I muft weepe,
But they arc cruell teares ; this forrovjes * heauenly,
It ftrlkes when { it does loue ; (he wakes.
Def. Who’s there. Othello ?
0th. I, Defdcmona.
Def. Will you come to bed my lord ?
0th. Haue you prayed to night, De/demona ?
Def. I my lord.
* 0th. If you bethinke your felfe of any crime,
Vnreconcil’d as yet to heauen and grace,
Sollicite for it flraite.
Def. Alas my lord, what may § you meane by that ? .
0th. Well doe it, and be briefe, I will waike by,
I would not kill thy vn prepared fpirit,
No, heauen fore-fend, I would not kill thy foule.
Def. Talke you of killing !
0th. I, I doe.
Def. Then heauen haue mercy on me.
0th. Amen, with all my heart.
Def. If you fay fo, I hope you will not kill me.
0th. Hum.
Def. And yet I feare you, for you are fatall then.
When your eyes roule fo* : why I fhould feare, I know not.
Since guiltineffe I know not, but yet I feele I feare.
0th. Thinke on thy Iinnes.
Def. They are loues I beare to you.
0th. And for that thou diefl.
[j rword; sne more, 4- * forro’iv^i, J ’where, § do.
Def.
I'HE Moore of Venice.
Def. That death’s vnnaturall, that kills for louiiig^
Alas, why gnaw you fo your neather lip ?
Some bloody paflion (hakes your very frame, •
Thefe are portents : but yet I hope
They doe not point on me,
0th, Peace, and be Pill.
Def. I will, fo, what’s the matter ?
0th. That handkercher f which I fo lou’d, and gaue thee.
Thou gaueP to CaJJio.
Def. No, by my life and foule, <
Send for the man and afke him.
0th. Sweete foule take heed, take heed of perlury,
Thou art on thy death-bed.
Def. I but not yet to die.
0th. Yes, prefently :
Therefore confelTe thee freely of thy finne.
For to deny each article with oath,
Cannot remoue, nor choke the Prong conceit *,
That I do groane withal! : thou art to die.
Def Then Lord haue mercy on me.
0th. I fay Amen.
Def And haue you mercy too :
I neuer did offend you in my life, neuer lou’d Cajfio,
But with fuch generall warranty of heauen.
As I might loue : I neuer gaue him token.
0th. By heauen I faw my handkercher f in his hand,
0 periured woman, thou doeP Pone thy 1 heart,
And makeP me call, what I intend to do,
A murder, which I thought a facrifice;
1 faw the handkercher f .
Def He found it then,
J neuer gaue it him, fend for him hither.
And § let him confePe a truth.
•f handhrebUfe, * conception. J my, § And^ omltwCd,
Oih*
The Tragedy of Othello
0th. F^e has confefl:.
Def. What, my lord ?
0th, That he hath — vds death |(.
Def, How, vnlawfully ? i
0th. I.
Def, He will not fay fo.
0th , No, his mouth is ftop’d,
Honeft lagp hath tane order for’t.
Def. My feare interprets then, — what is he dead ?
0th. Had all his haires bin hues.
My great reuenge had ftomacke for ’em all.
Def, Alas he is betraid, and I vndone.
0th. O flrumpet, — weepeft thou for him to my face ?
Def. O bannidi me, my lord, but’ kill me not.
Dpwne ftrumpet.
Def Kill me to morrow, let ine Hue to night.
0th. Nay, an you ftriue.
Def. But halfe an houre, *' but while' I Tay one prayer.
C?//;. Tis too late.
. ^ ^ He JiiJles her,
Def, 0 Lord, Loj-d, Lord f.
Emillla calls Juoithln,
Em. My lord, my lord, what hd,' my lord, my lord.' -
0th. What voyce is this ? not dead ? not yet'quite dead I
I that am cruell, am yet mercifull, - i • ^
I would not haue thee linger in thy paine, — fo, fo.
Em. What ho,- my lord, my lord.
0th, Who’s there ? *
Em. O good my lord, I’de fpeake a word with you.
I I
y usde thee. , ' ' , ^
• 0th. Beittg done there is ho pdufe, ,
Def. But while, &c.
-f omitted.
, ,
_ * * * V •
3
THE Moore of Venice.
Oth. Yes, tls Emilliay by and by : (bee’s dead : ' '
Tis like (he comes to fpeake of Cajfios death ;
Thenoyfe was here ; ha, noimore mouing, ,
Still as the graue ; (hall (he come in ? were’t good ?
I thnike (he ftirres againe ; no, what’s the bed i
If fhe come in, fhee’ll fure fpeake to my wife.
My wife, my wife, my f wife ; I ha no wife ;
O infupportable : O heauy houre.
Me thinks it fhould be now a huge ecclips
Of funne and moone, and that the affrighted globe,
Should yawne at alteration.
Em. I doe befeech you I may fpeake with you,-— -good my
lord. . . • •
Oth. I had forgot thee : O come in Emillia,
Soft, by and by ; let me the curtaines draw,
Eiit. Emil. •
% . * if.
Where art thou ? what’s the matter with thee now ? . v
Em. O my good lord, yonder’s foule murders done.
Oth. What now ?
Em. But now my lord. . . r
Oth. It is the very error of the moone, ' ,
She comes more neere the earth, then fhe was wont.
And makes men mad.
Em. CaJJio my lord has kll’d a yong Venetian,
Cafd Roderigo:
Oth. Roderigo kild, and CaJJio kild ?
Em. No, CaJJio is not kild.
Oth. Not CaJJiQ kild, then murders out of tune,
And fweete reuenge growcs harfh.
DeJ. O falfly, falfly murdered.
Em.
I ’what.
The Tragedy of Othello
Em. 0 Lord *, what cry is that ?
0th. That ? what ?
Em. Out and alas, it ?/:[: my ladyes voyce.
Helpe, helpe, ho helpe, O lady fpeake againe,
Sweete Defdemma^ O fwcete, mlftreflTe fpeake.
* Def. A guiltlefTe death I die.
Em. O who has done this deed t
Def. No body, I my felfe, farewell :
Commend me to my kinde lord, 0 farewell.
ff:e die it
0th. Why, how fhould fhe be murdered ?
Em. Alas, who knowes ?
Otb. You heard her fay, her felfe. It was not I.
Em. She fayd fo, I rnuH; needds report a truth.
0th. She’s like a Iyer, gone to burning hell,
*TwasI that kild her.
Em. O the more angell fhe.
And you the blacker diuell.
0th. She turn’d to folly, and fhe was a whore.
Em. Thou doft bely her, and thou aft a diuell.
0th. She was falfe as water. • ‘
^ ^ * r ..
1 Em. Thou as rafh as fire, ^
To fay that fhe was falfe : O fhe was heauenly true.
0th, Caffiod\& top her, afke thy hufband elfe; ' ’ '•
O I were damn’d beneath all depth in hell, ‘ ' ‘‘ -
But that I did proceed, vpon iufl grounds, *
To this extremity, thy hufband knew it all. ^ ‘
Em. My hufband ? '
0th. Thy hufband.
Em. That fhe was falfe to wedlocke ?
0th. I, with Cajfio : nay, had ihe bin true.
If heauen would make me fuch another world.
* ^lai, J •u as.
Of
THE Moore of Venice.'
Of one IntIre and perfe(fl: crifolite,
I’de not haue fold her for it.
Em. My hufband ?
0th. I, twas he that told me firff,
An honefl man he is, and hates the dime,
That dicks on filthy deedes.
Em. My hufband ?
0th, What needes this iteration ? woman, I fay thy I
band. *
Em. If he fay fo, may his pernitious foule
Rot halfe a graine a day ; he lies to’th heart.
She was too fond of her mod filthy bargaine,
0th. Ha ?
Em. Doe thy word.
This deed of thine is no more worthy heauen,
Then thou wad worthy her.
0th. Peace, you were bed.
Em. Thou had not halfe the power to doe me harme,
As I haue to be hurt : O gull, O dolt.
As ignorant as dirtt; thou had done a deed — •
I care not for thy fword, I’le make thee know,
Tho I lod twenty Hues : helpe, helpe, O helpe ;
The Moore has kild my midrefie, murder, murder.
Enter Montano, Gratiano, lago, and others.
Mon. What is the matter, how now generall i
Em. O, are you come lago ? you haue done well.
That men mud lay their murder on your neck.
All. What is the matter ?
* Em. Oh mijires, wVainy hath made mockei ivitblove :
My husband fay' that foe was falje ?
0 th. He woman, 1 jay thy husband doji underjiand the TMord ?
My friend, thy husband, hsnejl, honejl lago.
VoL. IV D d
The Tragedy of Othello
Em. Difproue this villaine, if thoa bee’Aa'man;
He fayes thou toldA him that his wife was falfe,
I know, thou did A not, thou art not fuch a villaine :
Spcake, for my heart is full.
lag. I told him what I thought, and told no more.
Then what he found himfelfe was apt and true.
Em. But did you euer tell him Aie was falfe ?
lag. I did.
Em. You told a lie, an odious damned lie ;
Vpon my foule, a lie, a wicked lie :
She falfe with CaJJio ; did you fay with CaJJlo ?
lag. With CaJJio miArefle ; go to, charme your tongue.
Ev2. I will not charme my tongue, I am bound to
fpeake. f
lag. What are you mad, I charge you get you home, •
Em. Good gentlemen let me haue leaue to fpeake,
Tis proper I obey him, but not now :
Perchance lago, I will ne’re goe home.
0th. Oh, oh, oh.
Oih.fals on the bed.
Em. Nay, lay thee downe, and rore.
For thou liaA kild the fweeteA innocent.
That ere did lift vp eye.
, 0th. O (he was foule :
I fcarce did know you vncle, there lies your niece,
, -f- vtiftrelfe here lies murdered in her bed.
All. Oh heavens foref end.
Em. And your reports have fet the murderer on.
Olh. Nay, Pate not majiers, it is true indeed.
Gra. Tis a Prangetruth.
Mon. Oh monprou sa6i !
Em. Villainy,, villany, villany ;
1 thinke upen t, I thinke, I fmell a villany ;
I thought Jo then j lie kill »y felfe for grief c,
0 villany, villany.
Whofe
THE Moore of Ventice.'
Whofe breath indeed, thefe hands haiie newly ftopt,
I know this a<5i: fhewes terrible and grim.
Gra. Poore Defdemoha, I am glad thy father’s dead,
Thy match was mortall to him, and pure griefe.
Shore his old thread atwaine * : did he line now, *
This fight would make him doe a defperate turne.
Yea curfe his better angell from his fide.
And fall to reprobation.
0th, Tis pittifull, but yet lago knowes.
That fhe with CaJJio, hath f the a6t of fliame
A thoufand times committed ; Cajfio confefl: it.
And fhe did gratifie his amorous workes.
With the recognifance and pledge of loue,
Which I firfl gaue her ; I faw it in his hand,
It was a handkercher ; an antique token
My father gaue my mother. v
Em, O God, O heauenly God.
lag. Zouns f, hold your peace.
Em, ’Twill out, ’twill: I hold my peace fir, no,
I’le be in fpeaking, liberall as the ayre,
Let heauen, and men, and diuells, let em all.
All, all cry fhame againft me, yet Tie fpeake.
lag. Be wife, and get you home.
Em. I will not.
Gra. Fie, your fword vpon a woman ?
Em. O thou dull Moore, that handkercher thou fpeakfl
on,
I found by fortune, and did giue my hulband :
,For often with a folemne earneflneffe.
More then indeed belong’d to fuch a trifle,
, He beg’d of me to fteale it.
Jag. Villainous whore.
. in twoinf^ "f" hadt J Comet
D d 2
The Tragedy of Othello
Em. She gaue it Cajfio ? no alas I found it,
And I did giu’t my hulband.
lag. Filth thou lieft.
Em. By heauen I doe not, I doe not gentlemen,
O murderous coxcombe ! what Ihould fuch a foole
Doe with fo good a woman ?
The Moore riinnes at lago, lago kils his 'wife,
0th. Are there no ftones in heauen,
But what ferues for the thunder ? pretioiis || villaine.
Cra. The woman falls, fure he has klld his wife.
Em. I, I, O lay me by my miflrefTe fide.
Exit lago.
Cra. Hee’s gone, but his wife’s kild.
Mon. Tis a notorious villaine, take your weapon.
Which I haue here recouered from the Moore :
Come, guard the dore without, let him not pafle.
But kill him rather, Tie after that fame villaine.
For tis a damned fiaue.
Exit Mont, and Gratlano.
0th. lam not valiant neither,
But euery puny whipffer gets my fword.
But why fliould honour out liue honefty ?
Let it goc all.
Em. ^ Moore, fhe was chaff, (he lou’d thee cruell Moore,
So come my foule to blifie, as I fpeake true ;
So fpeaking as I thinke, I die, I die.
She dies,
0th. I haue another weapon in this chamber.
It is a fword of Spaine, the ifebrookes temper ;
|] pernicicui.
* What did thy fcng bode Udy ?
Harke, canji theu htaremt? 1 ’will play tht (vd an,
Aj:d die in mujicke : njillcw, ’ivillu'W, willow, •
AEorty Sec.
O here
THE Moore of Venice.
0 here it is ; vncle I mufl: come forth.
Gra. 'within^
Gra, If thou attempt it, it will cofl: thee deere.
Thou haft no weapon, and perforce muft fuffer.
0th, Looke in vpon me then, and fpeake to me.
Or naked as I am, I will aftault thee.
Gra, What is the matter ?
0th, Behold, I haue a weapon,
A better neuer did it felfe fuftaine
Vpon a fouldiers thigh : I haue feene the day.
That with this little arme, and this good fword,
1 haue made my way through more impediments,
Then twenty umts you * ftop : but O vaine boaft,
Who can controule his fate ? tis not fo now, t
Pale as thy fmocke, when we we (hall meete at coufit §,
This looke of thine, will hurle my foule from heauen.
And fiends will fnatch at it : cold, cold, my girle,
Euen like thy chaftity ; O curfed Haue :
Whippe me you diuells.
From the pofteflion of this heauenly fight,
Blow me about in winds, roaft me in fulphure,
Wafli me in fteepe downe gulphes of liquid fire :
O Defdemona, Defdemoua, dead, O o, o,
* your.
Be not affraidy though you doe fee me ’weapon d j
Here is my iournies end, here is my butte,
^he very fea-marke of my utmoft faile.
Doe you goe backe difmaid f tis a loft feare,
Man but a rujh againft Othello’s breaft.
And he retires. Where Jhould Othello goe f
Hoio doft thou looke now f 0 ill far'd wench.
Pale, &c.
§ ctwipte,
Dd 3
Enter
The Tragedy of Othello
Enter Lodoulco, Montano, lago, and officers,
Caflio in a ckaire,
tod. Where is this raih and moft infortunate man.
0th. That he that was Othello^ here I am,
Lod. Where is this f viper, bring the villaine forth.
0th. I Jooke do'.vne towards his feet, but that’s a fable
I ■ thou beeft a diuell, I cannot kill thee,
Lod. Wring :|: his fword from him.
lag. I bleed fir, but not kil’d,
0th. I am not forry neither, I’de haue thee liuc.
For in my fenfe tis happinelTe to die.
Lod. O thou Othello, that wert once fo good,
Falne in the pra<flife of a damned flaue.
What fiiouid be faid to thee ?
0th. Why^any thing.
An honourable murderer if you will :
For nought did I in hate, but all in honour.
Lod. This wretch hath part confelT: his villainy r
Did you and he confent in Cajfio's death ?
0th. I. , . . ..
Caf. Deare general!, I did neuer glue you caufe.
0th. I doe beleeue it, and I afice you pardon, '
WilljV'^w § pray demand that demy diuell.
Why he hath thus infnar’d my foule and body ?
lag. Demand me nothing, what you know you know,
From this time forth I neuer will fpeake word. -
Lod. VvThat not to pray ?
Crat. Torments will op’e your lips.
0th. Well, thou doeft befl.
Lod. Sir, you fliall vnderfland what hath befahie,
as I thinke you know not : here is a letter,
f ilat. ^ Wrench. § you I.
Found
THE Moore of Venice.
Found In the pocket of the flalne Roderigo)
And here another ; the one of them imports
The death of CaJJio ; to be vndertooke — by Rodcrigo,
0th. O villaiiie.
Caf. Mod heatheniHi, and mod grofle.
Lod. Now heres another difcontented paper,
Found in his pocket too, and this it feemes,
Roderigo meant to haue fent this damned villaine.
But that belike, lago, in the nicke *
Came in, and fatisfied him.
0th. O the pernitious catiede !
How came you CaJJlo by a handkercher.
That was my wifes ?
Caf. I found it in my chamber.
And he himfelfe confed it X euen now.
That there he dropt it, for a fpeciall purpofe ;
Which wrought to his defire.
0th. O foole, foole, foole.
Caf. There is befides in Roderigoes letter
How he vpbraides lago, that he made him,
Braue me vpon the watch, whereon it came,
That I was cad ; and euen but now he fpake.
After long feeming dead, lago hurt him,
lago fet him on.
Lod. You mud forfake this roome, and goe with vs.
Your power and your command is taken off.
And Cajfio rules in Cypres : for this flaue.
If there be any cunning cruelty,
That can torment him much, and hold him long,
It diall be his : you fhall clofe prifoner red,
Till that the nature of your fault be knowne
To the Venetian State; come, bring him away.
♦ interm, % it tut.
Dvl 4
'Cth.
The Tragedy of Othello
0th, Soft you, a word or two,
I haue done the ftate fome feruice, and they know’t ;
No more of that : I pray you in your letters.
When you (hall thefe unlucky deedes relate,
Speake of them as they are § ; nothing extenuate,
Nor fet downe ought in malice, then mujiyou || fpeakc.
Of one that lou’d not wifely, but too well :
Of one not eafily iealous, but being wrought,
Perplext in the extreame ; of one whofe hand.
Like the bafe Indian, threw a pearle away.
Richer then all his tribe : of one whofe fubdued eyes.
Albeit vnufed to the melting moode.
Drops tcares as fall as the Arabian trees.
Their medicinall gum ; fet you downe this.
And fay befides, that in Aleppo once.
Where a malignant and a turband Turke,
Beate a Venetian, and traduc’d the Rate ;
I took bi’th throate the circumcifed dog.
And fmote him thus.
He Jlahs himfelfe*
tod. O bloody period.
Cra. - All that’s fpoke is mard.
0th. I kiR thee ere I kild thee, no way but this,
Killing’my felfe, to die vpon a kiRe.
He dies.
Caf. This did I feare, but thought he had no weapon.
For he was great of heart.
Lod. O Spartane dog.
More fell then anguifh, hunger, or thefea,
Looke on the tragicke lodging of this bed :
This is thy wor^, the obieiR poifons Rght,
Lc
^mt as J am.
H ytn muji.
THE Moore of Venice.
Let it be hid ; Gratlano^ keepe the houfe.
And ceaze vpon the fortunes of the Moore :
For they fucceed to you, to you lord gouernour,
Remaines the cenfure of this hellilh villaine.
The time, the place, the torture : O iuforce it.
My felfe will ftraite aboord, and to the ftate,
This heauy a£t with heauy heart relate.
Exeunt cmnss.
F .1 N
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SHAKE-SPEARES
SONNETS.
Neuer before Imprinted.
At LONDON
By G, Eld for T, T, and are to be folde by lohn Wright^
dwelling at Chrift Church gate.
1609.
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TO. THE. ONLIE. BEGETTER, OF.
THESE. INSVING. SONNETS.
Mr. W.H. ALL. HAPPINESSE.
AND. THAT. ETERNITIE.
PROMISED.
BY.
OVR. EVER-LIVING. POET;
WISHETH.
THE. WELL-WISHING.
ADVENTVRER. IN.
SETTING.
FORTH.
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I
SHAKE-SPEARES,
SONNETS.
F'^^ROM falrefl: creatures we defire increafe.
That thereby beauties rofe might neuer die.
But as the riper fhould by time deceafe.
His tender heire might beare his memory :
But thou contracted to thine ovvne bright eyes,
Feed’fl thy lights flame with felfe fubftantiall fewell,
Making a famine where aboundance lies,
Thy felfe thy foe, to thy fweete felfe too cruell:
Thou that art now the worlds frefli ornament, ^
And only herauld to the gaudy fpring.
Within thine owne bud burieft thy content.
And tender chorle makfl: waft in niggarding :
Pitty the world, or elfe this glutton be,
* To eate the worlds due, by the graue and thee#
n. ^
fortie winters fhall befeige thy brow,
And digge deepe trenches in thy beauties Held,
Thy youthes proud liuery fo gaz’d on now,
Wil be a totter’d weed of fmal worth held ;
Thea
Shake-speares Sonnets.
Then being afkt, where ail thy beau tie lies,
Where all the treafure of thy lufty dales ;
To fay within thine owne deepefunken eyes,
Where an all -eating (hame, and thriftlefTe praife.
How much more praife deferu’d thy beauties vfe.
If thou couldft anfwere this faire child of mine
Shall fum my count, and make my old excufe
Proouing his beautie by fucceflion thine.
This were to be new made when thou art ould.
And fee thy blood warme when thou feel’ll it could,
III.
T O O KE in thy glade and tell the face thou vewcfl.
Now is the time that face fhould forme an other,
Whofe frelh repaire if now thou not renewed.
Thou doo’fl beguile the world, vnblefle fome mother.
For where is (he fo faire whofe vn-eard wombe
Difdaines the tillage of thy hufbandry >
Or who is he fo fond will be the tombe.
Of his felfe loue to (lop poflerity ?
Thou art thy mothers glaffe and (he in thee
Calls backe the louely Aprill of her prime.
So thou through windowes of thine age (halt fee,
Difpight of wrinkles this thy goulden time.
But if thou Hue remembred not to be.
Die fingle and thine image dies with thee.
IV.
■\7N THRIFTY louelinelTe why doefl thou fpend,
^ Vpon thy felfe thy beauties legacy ?
Natures bequeft giues nothing but doth lend.
And being franck (he lends to thofe are free :
1
Then
/
Shake-spbares Sonnets.'
Then beautlous nigard why dooft thou abufe,
The bountious largefTe giueii thee^ to giue ?
Profitles vferer why dooft thou vfe
So great a fumme of fummes yet can’fl not liue?
For hauing traffike with thy-felfe alone,
Thou of thy felfe thy fweet felfe doft deceaue.
Then how when nature calls thee to be gone.
What acceptable audit can’ll thou leaue ?
Thy vnus’d beauty muft be tomb’d with thee,
Which vfed Hues th’ executor to be.
V.
O S E bowers that with gentle worke did frame,
The louely gaze where euery eye doth dwell
Will play the tirants to the very fame.
And that vnfaire which fairely doth excell :
For neuer relling time leads fummer on.
To hidious winter and confounds him there,
Sap'checkt with froll and luflie lean’s quite gon.
Beauty oreTnow’d and barenes euery where,
Then were not fummers diflillation left
A liquid prifoner pent in walls of glafTe,
Beauties effedl with beauty were bereft,
Nor it nor noe remembrance what it was.
But flowers diftU’d though they with winter meete,
Leefe but their Ihow, their fubflance flill hues fweet,
VI.
HEN let not winters wragged hand deface,
In thee thy fummer ere thou be diflil’d :
Make fweet fome viall ; treafure thou fome place,
With beauties treafure ere it be felfe kil’d ;
VoL. IV. > Ee
Th
(
Shake-speares Sonnets."
That vfe Is not forbidden vfery,
Which happies thofe that pay the willing lone ;
That’s for thy felfe to breed an other thee,
Or ten times happier be it ten for one,
Ten times thy felfe were happier then thou art.
If ten of thine ten times refigur’d thee,
Then what could death doe if thou (hould’fl depart.
Leaning thee lining in pofterity ?
Be not felfe-wild for thou art much too faire,
To be deaths conquefl and make wormes thine heirc.
VII.
1* O E in the orient when the gracious light.
Lifts vp his burning head, each vnder eye
Doth homage to his new appearing fight,
Seruing with lookes his facred maiefiy.
And hauing climb’d the fleepe vp heauenly hill,
Refembling firong youth in his middle age.
Yet mortall lookes adore hisNbeauty flill.
Attending on his goulden pilgrimage :
•But when from high-mofl pich with wery car.
Like feeble age he reeleth from the day,
The eyes (fore dutious) now conuerted are
From his low tracff and iooke an other way :
So thou thy felfe out-going in thy noon :
. Vnlok’d on dieft vnlefTe thou get a fonne.
vin.
TV/TVfick to heare, why hear’fi: thou mufick fadly,
^ ^ Sweets with fweets warre not, ioy delights in ioy
Why lou’fi: thou that which thou receauft not gladly.
Or elfe receau’ll: with pleafure thine annoy ?
Shake-speares Sonnets.’
If the true concord of well tuned founds, -
By vnions married do offend thine eare.
They do but fweetly chide thee, who confounds
In fingleneffe the parts that thou fhould’fl beare :
Marke how one firing fweet hufband to an other,
'Strikes each In each by mutuall ordering;
Refembling Tier, and child, and happy mother.
Who all in one, one pleafing note do fing ;
Whofe fpeechleffe fong being many, feeming one,
Sings this to thee thou Tingle wilt proue none.
IX.
T S it for feare to wet a widdowes eye,
^ That thou confum’fl thy felfe in fingle life?
Ah ; if thou iffuleffe flialt hap to die.
The world will waile thee like a makeleffe wife.
The world wil be thy widdow" and .flill weepe,
That thou no forme of thee haft left behind.
When euery priuat widdow well may keepe,
By childrens eyes, her hufbands fhape in minde :
Looke what an vnthrift in the world doth fpend
Shifts but his place, for ftill the world inioyes it
But beauties wade hath in the world an end.
And kept vnvfde the vfer fo deftroyes it :
No loue toward others in that bofome fits
That on himfelfe fuch murdrous ftiame commits.
X.
T7 O R ftiame deny that thou bear’d: loue to any
Who for thy felfe art fo vnprouident
Graunt if thou wilt, thou artbelou’d of many,
But that thou none lou’ft is moft euident :
E e 2
Shake-speares Sonnets.
For thou art fo pofTeA with murdrous hate,
That gainft thy felfe thou ftickft not to confpire.
Seeking that beautious roofe to ruinate
Which to rejjaire fhould be thy chiefe defire :
O change thy thought, that I may change nay minde.
Shall hate be fairer log’d then gentle loue ?
Be as thy prefence is gracious and kind.
Or to thy felfe at leaft kind harted prone,
Make thee an other felfe for loue of me.
That beauty flill may line in thine or thee.
XL
A S fall as thou (halt wane fo fall: thou grow’ft.
In one of thine, from that which thou departed,
And that frelh bloud which yongly thou beftow’ft.
Thou maifl call thine, when thou from youth conuertefl.
Herein Hues wifdome, beauty, and increafe.
Without this foHie, age, and could decay.
If all were minded fo, the times Ihould ceafe.
And threefcoore yeare 'would make the world away :
Let thofe whom nature hath not made for ilore,
Harfh, featureleffe, and rude, barrenly perrilh,
Looke whom fhe bell indow’d, Ihe gaue the more ;
Which bountious guift thou fliouldll: in bounty cherrifli.
She caru’d thee for her feale, and ment thereby.
Thou fliouldfl print more, not let that coppy die.
xri.
H E N I doe count the clock that tels the time.
And fee the braue dayfunck in hidioiis night.
When 1 behold the violet pad prime.
And fable curls or fiiuer*d ore with white :
When
ShakE'Speares Sonnets..
When lofty trees I fee barren of leaues.
Which erft from heat did canopie the herd
And fommers greene all girded vp in fheaues
Borne on the beare with white and briftly beard :
Then of thy beauty do I queflion make
7'hat thou among the waftes of time mufl: goe.
Since fweets and beauties do them-felues forfake,
And die as fall as they fee others grow,
xA.nd nothing gainft times fieth can make defence
Saue breed to braue him, when he takes thee hence.
XIII.
That you were your felfe, but loue you are
No longer yours, then you your felfe here liue,
Againll this cumming end you fliould prepare.
And your fweet femblance to fome other giue.
So Ihould that beauty which you hold in leafe
Find no determination, then you were
You felfe again after your felfes deceafe.
When your fweet ilTue your fweet forme Ihould beare.
Who lets fo faire a houfe fall to decay.
Which hulbandry in honour might vphold,
AgainO: the ftormy gulls of winters day
And barren rage of deaths eternall cold ?
O none but vnthrifts, deare my loue you know,
You had a father, let your fon fay fo.
XIV.
O T from the liars do I my iudgement plucke,
And yet me thinkes I haue allronomy.
But not to tell of good, or euil lucke,
Of plagues, of dearths, or feafons quallity,
E e 3
Nor
Shake-speares Sonnets.
Nor can I fortune to breefe mynuits tell ;
Pointing to each his thunder, raine and winde.
Or fay with princes if it fhal go wel,
By oft predial that I in heauen finde,
But from thine eies my knowledge I deriue.
And conllant flars in them I read fuch art
As truth and beautie fhal together thriue - ^
. If from thy felfe, to ftore thou wouldft conuert :
Or elfe of thee this I prognofticate.
Thy end is truthes and beauties doomeand date.
XV.
E N I confider euery thing that growes
Holds in perfection but a little moment.
That this huge ftage prefenteth nought but fhowes
Whereon the ftars in fecret influence comment.
When I perceiue that men as plants increafe,
Cheared and checkt euen by the felfe-fame fkie :
Vaunt in their youthfull fap, at height decreafe.
And were their braue flate out of memory.
Then the conceit of this inconflant flay,
Sets you moft rich in youth before my fight.
Where waflfull time debateth with decay
7'o change your day of youth to fullied night,
And all in war with time for loue of you
* As he takes from you, I ingraft you new.
XVI.
TJ V T wherefore do not you a mightier waie
Make warre vppon this bloudie tirant time ?
And fortifie your felfe in your decay
\Vith meanes more bleflTed then my barren rime ?
' ShAKE-SPEARES S0NNET5.
Now ftand you on the top of happie houres.
And many maiden gardens yet vnfet,
With vertuous wifh would beare your lluing flowers.
Much ilker then your painted counterfeit :
' So fhould the lines of life that life repaire
Which this (times penfel or my pupill pen)
Neither in inward worth nor outward faire
Can make you Hue your felfe in eies of men.
To glue away your felfe, keeps your felfe flill,
And you muff liue drawne by your owne fweet fkill.
XVII.
\\T H O will beleeue my verfe in time to come
~ ^ If it were fild with your mofl: high deferts ?
Though yet heauen knowes it is but as a tombe
Which hides your life, and fliewes not halfe your parts:
If I could write the beauty of your eyes,
And in frefli numbers number all your graces,
The age to come would fay this poet lies,
Such heauenly touches nere toucht earthly faces.
So fhould my papers (yellowed with their age)
Be fcorn’d, like old men of lefTe truth then tongue,
And your true rights be’termd a poets rage.
And flretched miter of an antique fong.
But were fome childe of yours aliue that time.
You fhould liue twifeinit, and in my rime.
XVIII.
Q H A L L I compare thee to a fummers day ?
^ Thou art more louely and more temperate :
Rough windes do fhake the darling buds of Maie,
And fommers leafe hath all too fhort a date;
E e 4
Sometime
Shake-sp£ares Sonnets.
Sometime too hot the eye of heauen fhines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm’d.
And euery faire from faire fome-time declines.
By chance, or natures changing courfe vntrim’d »
But thy eternall fommer fhall not fade,
Nor loofe pofleffion of that faire thou ow’ft,
Nor fhall death brag thou wandr’fl in his fhade,
When in eternall lines to time thou grow’ft.
So long as men can breath or eyes can fee,
So long hues this, and this glues life to thee,
, ' XIX.
T^Euouripg time blunt thou the lyons pawes.
And make the earth deuoure her owne fweet brood,
Plucke the keene teeth from the fierce tygers yawes,
And burne the long lin’d Phaenix in her blood.
Make glad and forry feafons as thou fleet’fl,
And do what ere thou wilt fwift- footed time
To the wide world and all her fading fweets :
But I forbid thee one mofl hainous crime,
O came not with thy howers my loues faire brow.
Nor draw noe lines there with thine antique pen.
plim in thy courfe vntainted doe allow.
For beauties patterne tofucceding men.
Yet doe thy worfl ould time difpight thy wrong.
My loue fhall in my verfe euer Hue young.
XX.
A Womans face with natures owne h^nd painted,
Hafle thou the m after miftris of my paftion,
A womans gentle hart but not acquainted
With fhifting change as is falfe womens fafhipn.
Shake-speares Sonnets.
An eye more bright then theirs, lefTe faife in rowling :
Gilding the obiecft where- vpon it gazeth,
A man in hew all hews in his cont rowling.
Which fleales mens eyes and womens foules amafeth.
And for a woman we; t thou firft created.
Till nature as (he wrought thee fell a dotinge,
And by addition me of thee defeated.
By adding one thing to my purpofe nothing.
But fince (he prickt thee out for womens pleafure.
Mine be thy lone and thy loues vfe their treafure.
XXL
Q O Is it not with me as with that mufe,
^ Stird by a painted beauty to his verfe.
Who heauen it felfe for ornament doth vfe.
And euery faire with his faire doth reherfe.
Making a coopelment of proud compare
With funne and moone, with earth and feas rich gems
With Aprills firfl borne flowers and all things rare.
That heauens ayre in this huge rondure hems,
O let me true in loue but truly write,
And then beleeue me, my loue is as faire.
As any mothers childe, though not fo bright
As thofe gould candells flxt in heauens ayer :
Let them fay more that like of heare-fay well,
I will not prayfe that purpofe not to fell.
XXIL
TV /T Y glafle (hall not perfwade me I am ould.
So long as youth and thou are of one date.
But when in thee times forrwes I behould.
Then look I death my daies (liould expiate.
Shake-speares Sonnets,
For all that beauty that doth couer thee.
Is but the feemely rayment of my heart.
Which in thy breft doth liue, as thine in me.
How can I then be elder then thou art ?
O therefore loue be of thy felfe fo wary.
As I not for my felfe, but for thee will.
Bearing thy heart which I will keepe fo chary
As tender nurfe her babe from faring ill.
Prefume not on thy heart when mine is flaine.
Thou gau’fl me thine not to giue'backe againe.
XXIII.
Jl S an voperfe^t acflor on the flage.
Who with his feare is put befides his part.
Or fome fierce thing repleat with too much rage,
Whofe firengths abondance weakens his owne heart ;
So I for feare of trufi, forget to fay.
The perfe^I ceremony of loues right.
And in mine owne loues ftrength feeme to decay,
Ore-charg’d with burthen of mine owne loues might :
O let my books be then the eloquence,
And domb prefagers of my fpeaking breft,
Who pleade for loue, and look for recompence,
More then that tonge that more hath more exprefi.
O learne to read what filent loue hath writ.
To heare wit eies belongs to loues fine wiht.
XXIV.
A I N E eye hath play’d the painter and hath fieeld,
^ ^ Thy beauties forme in table of my heart,
My body is the frame wherein ti’s held.
And perfpedliue it is beft painters art.
Shake-speares Sonnets.
For through the painter mufl: you fee his fkill.
To finde where your true image pictur’d lies.
Which in my bofomes fhop is hanging ftil.
That hath his windowes glazed with thine eyes :
Now fee what good-turnes eyes for eies haue done.
Mine eyes haue drawne thy lhape, and thine for me
Are windowes to my breft, where-through the fun
Delights to peepe, to gaze therein on thee
Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art
They draw but what they fee, know not the hart.
XXV.
T ET thofe who are in fauor with their flars.
Of publike honour and proud titles boll,
Whilfl I whome fortune of fuch tryumph bars
Vnlookt for ioy in that I honour moft ;
Great princes fauprites their faire leaues fpread.
But as the marygold at the funs eye,
And in them-felues their pride lies buried,
For at a frowne they in their glory die.
The painefull warrier famofed for worth.
After a thoufand viftories once foild.
Is from the booke of honour rafed quite.
And all the reft forgot for which he toild :
Then happy I that loue and am beloued
Where I may not remoue, nor be remoued.
XXVI.
T O R D of my loue, to whome in vaftalage
Thy merrit hath my dutie ftrongly knit .5
To thee I fend this written ambalTage
To witnelfe duty, not to fhew my wit.
Shake-speares Sonnets.
Duty To great, which wit -To poore as mine
May make feeme bare, in wanting words to fhcw it ;
But that I hope fomc good conceipt of thine
In thy foules thought (all naked) will beflow it :
Till whatfocuer flar that guides my mouing.
Points on me gratioufly with faire afpe^f.
And puts apparrcll on my tottered louing.
To fxiow me worthy of their fweet refpe(fl:.
Then may I dare to boafl how I doe loue thee.
Til then, not Ihow my head where thou maifl: proue me.
XXVII.
V)^E ARY with toyle, I haft me to my bed,
^ ^ The deare repofe for lims with trauaill tired.
But then begins a iourny in my head
To worke my mind, when boddies work’s expired.
For then my thoughts (from far where I abide)
Intend a zelous pilgrimage to thee,
And keepe my drooping eye-lids open wide.
Looking on darknes which the blind doe fee.
Saue that my foules imaginary fight
Prefents their ftiaddoe to my fghtles view.
Which like a iewell (hunge in gaftly night)
Makes blacke night beautious, and her old face new.
Loe thus by day my lims, by night my mind,
For thee, and for my felfe, noe quiet findc.
XXVIII.
TTOW can! then returne in happy plight
That am debard the benifit of reft ?
When dales opppreffion is not eazd by night.
But day by night and night by day opreft.
And
Shake-speares Sonnets,
And each (though enlmes to ethers ralgne)
Doe in confent fhake hands to torture me.
The one by toyle, the other to complaine
How far I toyle, ftill farther off from thee.
I tell the day to pleafe him thou art bright.
And do’fl him grace when clouds doe blot the heauen :
So flatter I the fwart complexiond night.
When fparkling ftars twire not thou guil’fl th’ eauen.
But day doth daily draw my forrowes longer,
And night doth nightly make greefes length feeme flronger.
XXIX.
in difgrace with fortune and mens eyes,
I all alone beweepe my out-cafl flate,
And trouble deafe heauen with my bootlefle cries.
And looke vpon my felfe and curfe my fate.
Wifhing me like to one more rich in hope.
Featur’d like him, like him with friends poflbfl:.
Defiring this mans art, and that mans fkope.
With what I moft inioy contented leaf!:.
Yet in thefe thoughts my felfe almofl: defpifing,
Haplye I thinke on thee, and then my flate,
(Like to the larke at breake of daye arifing)
From fullen earth fings himns at heauens gate,
For thy fweet loue remembred fuch welth brings,
That then I fkorne to change my flate with kings.
XXX.
HEN to the fefiions of fweet filent thought,
^ ^ I fommon vp remembrance of things pafl,
• I figh the lacke of many a thing I fought,
And with old woes new waile my deare times wafle ;
Then
Shake-speares Sonnets^
Then can I drowne an eye (vn-vf’d to flow)
For precious friends hid in deaths datelcs night.
And weepe a frefli loues long fince canceld woe,
And mone th’ expence of many a vanniflit fight.
Then can I greeue at greeuances fore-gon.
And heauily from woe to woe tell ore
The fad account of forc-bemoned mone.
Which I new pay as if not payd before.
But if the while I thinke on thee (deare friend)
All Ioffes are reftord, and forrowes end,
XXXI.
rr^H Y bofome is indeared with all hearts
Which I by lacking haue fuppofed dead.
And there raignes loue and all loues louing parts,
And all thofe friends which I thought buried.
How many a holy and obfequious teare
Hath deare religious loue floliie from mine eye.
As interefl of the dead, which now appeare.
But things remou’d that hidden in there lie.
Thou art the graue where buried loue doth Hue,
Hung with the tropheis of my louers gon.
Who all their parts of me to thee did giue.
That due of many, now is thine alone.
Their images I lou’d, I view in thee.
And thou (all they) haff all the all of me.
XXXII.
TF thou furuiue my well contented daie.
When that churle death my bones with dull fliall couer
And fhalt by fortune once more re-furuay :
Thefe poore rude lines of thy deceafed louer ;
Compare
Shake-spiares Sonnets,
Compare them with the bett’ring of the time.
And though they be out-ftript by euery pen,
Referue them for my loue, not for their rime.
Exceeded by the hight of happier men.
Oh then voutfafe me but this louing thought.
Had my friends mufe growne with this growing age,
A dearer birth then this his loue had brought
To march in ranckes of better equipage :
But fince he died and poets better proue.
Theirs for their flile He read, his for his loue.
XXXIII.
T^VLL many a glorious morning haue I feene.
Flatter the mountaine tops with foueraine eie.
Killing with golden face the meddowes greene ;
Guilding paleftreames with heauenly alcumy :
Anon permit the bafefl: cloudes to ride.
With ougly rack on his celefliall face.
And from the for-lorne world his vifage hide
Stealing vnfeene to weft with this difgrace :
Euen fo my funne one early morne did fhine.
With all triumphant fplendor on my brow.
But out alack, he was but one houre mine.
The region cloude hath malk’d him from me now.
Yet him for this, my loue no whit difdaineth.
Suns of the world may ftaine, whe heauens fun flainteh.
XXXIV.
didft thou promifefuch a beautious day,
^ ^ And make me trauaile forth without my cloake.
To let bace cloudes ore-take me in my way,
Hiding thy brauYy in their rotten fmoke.
Shake-speaRes Sonnets.''
Tls not enough that through the cloude thou breake,
To dry the rainc on my Itorme-beaten face.
For no man well of fuch a falue can fpeake,
That heales the wound, and cures not the difgrace ;
Nor can thy fhame giue phificke to my griefe.
Though thou repent, yet I haue (fill the Ioffe,
Th" offenders forrow lends but weake reliefe
To him that beares the ffrong offenfes Ioffe.
Ah but thofe teares are pearle which thy loue fheeds,
And they are ritch, and ranfome all ill deeds.
XXXV.
more bee green’d at that which thou hall done,
Rofes haue thornes, and filuer fountaines mud,
Cloudes and eclipfes flaine both moone and funne.
And loathfome canker lines in fweetefl bud.
All men make faults, and euen I in this,
Authorizing thy trefpas with compare.
My felfe corrupting faluing thy amiffe,
Excufing their fins more then their fins are :
For to thy fenfuall fault I bring in fence.
Thy aduerfe party is thy aduocate.
And gainfl my felfe a lawfull plea commence.
Such ciuill war is in my loue and hate.
That I an accefftry needs mufl be.
To that fweet theefe which fourely robs from me,
XXXVI.
T E T me confefle that we two mufl be twaine,
Although our vndeuided loues are one:
So fhall thofe blots that do with me reraaine.
Without thy helpe, by me be borne alone.-
Shake-speares Sonnets^
I-n oui* two loues there is but onerefpeft.
Though in our hues a feperable fpight.
Which though it alter not loues foie efTeft,
Yet doth it fleale fweete houres from loues delight,
I may not eiier-more acknowledge thee,
Leaft my bewailed guilt fliould do thee fliame,
Nor thou with publike kindnefle honour me,
VnlelTe thou take that honour from thy name:
But doe not fo> I loue thee in fuch fort.
As thou being mine, mine is thy good report,
XXXVII.
A S a decrepit father takes delight.
To fee his a(5liue childe do deeds of y6uth>
So I, made lame by fortunes deareft fpight
Take all my comfort of thy worth and truth.
For whether beauty, birth, or wealth, or wit.
Or any of thefe all, or all, or more
Intitled in their parts, do crowned lit,
1 make my loue ingrafted to this llore :
So then I am hot lame, poore, nor difpif’d,
Whilft that this lhadow doth fuch fubftance giile,
That I in thy abundance am fuffic’d.
And by a part of all thy glory Hue ;
Looke what is beft, that bell I wifh in thee,
This wiih I haue, then ten times happy me.
XXXVIII.
TjO W can my mule want fubiefl to inuent
^ While thou doll breath that poor’ll into my verfe,
Thine owne fweete argument, to excellent,
For euery vulgar paper to rehearfe :
VoL. IV. Ff
Oh
Shake-speares Sonnets,
Oh glue thyfelfe the thankes if ought in me.
Worthy perufal ftand againft thy fight.
For who’s fo dumbe that cannot write to thee.
When thou thy felfe doft: glue inuention light ?
Be thou the tenth mufe, ten times more in worth
Then thofe old nine which rimers inuocate.
And he that calls on thee, let him bring forth.
Eternal numbers to out-liue long date.
If my flight mufe doe pleafe thefe curious dales.
The paine be mine, but thine Ihal be the praife.
XXXIX.
how thy worth with manners may I finge.
When thou art all the better part of me ?
What can mine owne praife to mine owne felfe bring ;
And what i’st but mine owne when I praife thee,
Euen for this, let vs deuided hue.
And our deare loue loofe name of Angle one.
That by this feperation I may giue :
That due to thee which thou deferu’fl alone :
Oh abfence what a torment wouldfl thou proue,
Were it not thy foure leifure gaue fweet leaue.
To cntertaine the time with thoughts of loue.
Which time and thoughts fo fweetly doft deceiue.
And that thou teacheft how to make 9ne twaine.
By praiAng him here who doth hence remaine.
XL.
Take all myloues, my loue, yea take them all.
What haft ’thou then more then thou hadft before
No loue, my loue, that thou maift true loue call,
All mine was thine, before thou hadft this more :
Shake-spbares Sonnets."
Then if for my loue, thou my loue recelueft,
I cannot blame thee, for my loue thou vfefi:.
But yet be blam’d, if thou this felfe deceaueft.
By wilfull tafte of what thy felfe refufeft.
I doe forgiue thy robb’rie gentle theefe
Although thou fteale thee all my pouerty :
And yet loue knowes it is a greater griefe
To beare loues wrong, then hates knowne iniury.
Lafciuious grace, in whom all il wel fhowes.
Kill me with fpights yet we muft not be foes.
XLI.
^T^HOSE pretty wrongs that liberty commits.
When I am fome-time abfent from thy heart.
Thy beautie, and thy yeares full well befits.
For jftill temptation followes where thou art.
Gentle thou art, and therefore to be wonne,
Beautious thou art, therefore to be afiailed.
And when a woman woes, what womans fonne.
Will fourely leaue her till he haue preu ailed.
Aye me, but yet thou mighfi: my feate forbeare,
And chide thy beauty, and thy firaying youth,
Who lead thee in their ryot euen there
Where thou art forfi: to breake a two-fold truth:
Hers by thy beauty tempting her to thee,
Thine by thy beautie beeing falfe to me.
XLII.
AT thou hafi her it is not all my griefe.
And yet it may be faid, I lou’d her deerely,
That (he hath thee is of my wayling cheefe,
A lofie in loue that touches me more neerely.
Ff 2
Shake-speares Sonnets.'
Louing offenders thus I will excufe yee.
Thou dooft loue her, becaufe thou knowft I loue her,
And for my fake euen fo doth Ihe abufe me,
Suffring my friend for my fake to approoue her,
If I loofe thee, my lolTe is my loues gaine.
And loofing her, my friend hath found that Ioffe,
Both finde each other, and I loofe both twaine.
And both for my fake lay on me this croffe,
But here’s the ioy, my friend and I are one,
Sweete flattery, then fhe loues but me alone.
XLIIL
W7*^E N .mofl I winke then doe mine eyes befl fee,
^ For all the day they view things vnrefpeftcd.
But when I fleepe, in dreames they looke on thee.
And darkely bright, are bright in darke directed.
Then thou whofe fliaddow fhaddowes doth make bright.
How would thy fhadowes forme, forme happy fhow.
To the cleere day with thy much cleerer light.
When to vn-feeing eyes thy (hade fhines fo ?
How would (I fay) mine eyes be blefled made.
By looking on thee in the liuing day ?
When in dead night their faire imperfe^l: fhade.
Through heauy fleepe on fightleffe eyes doth flay ?
All dayes are nights to fee till I fee thee.
And nights bright dales when dreams do fhew thee me,
XLIV.
TF the dull fubflance of my fleih were thought,
Iniurious diflance fhould not flop my way.
For then difpight of fpace I would be brought.
From limits farre remote, where thou doofl flay,
No
Shake-speares Sonnets.-
No matter then although my foote did ftand
Vpon the farthefl earth remoou’d from thee.
For nimble thought can iumpe both fea and land.
As foone as thinke the place where he would be.
But ah, thought kills me that I am not thought
To leape large lengths of miles when thou art gone.
But that fo much of earth and water wrought, '
I muA attend, times leafure with my mone.
Receiuing naughts by elements fo floe.
But heauie teares, badges of cithers woe.
XLV.
other two, flight ayre, and purging fire,
Are both with thee, where euer I abide,
The firfl: my thought, the other my deflre,
Thele prcfent abfent with fwift motion Aide,
For when thefe quicker elements are gone
In tender embaflie of loue to thee,
My life being made of foure, with two alone,
Sinkes downe to death, opprefl with melancholic*
Vntill hues compofition be recured.
By thofe fwift meflengers return’d from thee.
Who euen but now come back againe afliired.
Of their faire health, recounting it to me.
This told, I ioy, but then no longer glad,
I fend them back againe and flraight grow fad.
XLVI.
NE eye and heart are at a mortall warre.
How to deuide the conqueft of thy fight.
Mine eye, my heart their pi<fl:ures fight would barre.
My heart, mine eye the freed ome of that right,
Ff 3
Shake-speares Sonnets.
My heart doth plead that thou in him doofl lye,
(A clofet neuer pearfl with chriftall eyes)
But the defendant doth that plea deny,
And fayes in him their faire appearance lyes.
To fide this title is impannelled
A quell of thoughts, all tennants to the heart,
And by their verdi(fl is determined
The cleere eyes moyitie, and the deare hearts part.
As thus, mine eyes due is their outward part.
And my hearts right, their inward loue of heart,
%
XLVII.
T>E T WIXT mine eye and heart a league is tooke.
And each doth good turnes now vnto the other.
When that mine eye is famllht for a looke.
Or heart in loue with fighes himfelfe doth fmother ;
With my loues piiflure then my eye doth feall.
And to the painted banquet bids my heart :
An other time mine eye is my hearts guefl.
And in his thoughts of loue doth lhare a part.
So either by thy pifture or my loue,
T'hy felfe away, are prefent Hill with me,
For thou nor farther tHen my thoughts canil moue.
And I am Hill with them, and they with thee.
Or if they fleepe, thy pidlure in my fight
Awakes my heart, to hearts and eyes delight.
XLVIII.
•ILJO W carefull was I when I tooke my way,
^ Each trifle vndcr trueH barres to thruH,
That to- my vfe it might vn-vfed Hay
hands of falfehppd, in Hire wards of truH ?
Shake-spearb^
But thou, to whom myiewe's trifles aie,
Mofl: worthy comfort," now my greatefi: griefe,
Thou befl: of deereft, and mine onely care.
Art left the prey of euery vulgar theefe.
Thee haue I not lockt vp in any cheft,
Saue where thou art not, though I feele thou art.
Within the gentle clofure of my breft.
From whence at pleafure thou maifl come and part,
And euen thence thou wilt be flolne I feare,
For truth proues theeuifh for a prize fo deare.
XLIX.
AGAINST that time (if euer that time come)
When I fhall fee thee frowne on my defecls,
When as thy loue hath cafl: his vtmofl: fumme, -
Cauld to that audite by aduis’d refpecfls,
Againfl that time when thou (halt ftrangely pafle,
And fcarcely greete me with that funne thine eye,
When loue conuerted from the thing it was
Shall reafons finde of fetled grauitie.
Againfl: that time do I infconce me here
Within the knowledge of mine owne defart,
And this my hand, againfl my felfe vpreare.
To guard the lawfull reafons on thy part.
To leaue poore me, thou hafl the flrength of lawes.
Since why to loue, I can alledge no caufe.
L.
T T O W heauie doe I iourney on the way,
^ When what I feeke (my wearie trauels end)
Doth teach that eafe and that repofe to fay
Thus farre the miles are meafurde from thy friend,
F f 4
The
ShAKE-SPE ARES SoNNETS,
The bcafi: that beares me, tired with my woe.
Plods duly on, to beare that waight in me.
As if by fome infliiKH: the wretch did know
His rider lou*d not fpeed being made from thee :
The bloody fpurre cannot prouoke him on.
That fome-times anger thruffs into his hide.
Which heauily he anfwers with a grone,
More fharpe to me then fpurring to his fide.
For that fame grone doth put this in my mind.
My greefe lies onward and my ioy behind.
LI.
HUS can my loue excufe the flow offence^
Of my dull bearer, when from thee I fpeed.
From where thou art, wHy fhould I hall: me thence.
Till I returne of polling is noe need.
O what excufe will my poore beafl then find.
When fwift extremity can feeme but flow.
Then fhould I fpurre though mounted on the wind,
In w'inged fpeed no motion fhall I know.
Then can no horfe with my defire keepe pace.
Therefore defire (of perfects loue being made)
Shall naigh noe dull flefh in his fiery race.
But loue, for loue, thus fhall excufe my iade.
Since frpm thee going, he went wilfull flow,’
Towards thee lie run, and giue him leaue to goe
LII.
C O am I as the rich whofe blefTed key,
^ Can bring him to his fweet vp-locked treafure,
The which he will not eu’ry hower furuay,
For’blunting the fine point of feldome pleafure.
Shake-speares Sonnets.
Therefore are feaflsTo follemne and forare.
Since fildom comming in the long yeare fet.
Like flones of worth they thinly placed are.
Or captaine ie\yells in the carconet.
So is the time that keepes you as my chert.
Or as the ward-robe which the robe doth hide.
To make fome fpeciall inrtant fpeciall blert.
By new vnfouldipg his imprifon’d pride.
Blerted are you whofe worthinelTe giues Ikope,
Being had to tryumph, being lackt to hope.
LIII.
\\7 HAT is your fubrtance, whereof are you made,
^ That millions of ftrange rtiaddowes on you tend
Since euery one, hath euery one, one fliade.
And you but one, can euery fhaddow lend :
Defcribe Adonis and the counterfet,
Is poorely immitated after yon, '
On Hellens cheeke all art of beautie fet,
And you in Grecian tires are painted new :
Speake of the fpring, and foyzon of the yeare,
The one doth lhaddow of your beautie rtiow.
The other as your bountie doth appeare,
And you in euery blerted rtiape we know.
In all externall grace you haue fome part.
But you like none, none you for cpnllant heart.
H how much more doth beautie beautious feeme.
By that fweet ornament which truth doth giue.
The rofe lookes faire, but fairer we it deeme
for that fweet odor, which doth in it Hue :
Shake-speares Sonnets.
The canker bloomes haue full as deepe a die.
As the perfumed tin(n:ure of the rofes.
Hang on fuch thornes, and play as wantonly.
When fommers breath their maiked buds difclofes :
But for their virtue only is their fliow.
They Hue vnwoo’d,and vnrerpe(fl:ed fade.
Die to themfelues. Sweet rofes doe not fo,
Of their fweet deathes, are fweeteft odors made :
And fo of you, bcautious and louely youth.
When that fhall vade, by verfe diHils your truth.
LV.
■VT O T marble, nor the guilded monument.
Of princes fhall out-liue this powrefull rime.
But you fhall Ihine more bright in thefe contents
Then vnfwept Hone, befmeer’d with fluttilh time.
When waHefull warre (hall flatues ouer-turne.
And broiles roote out the worke of mafonry.
Nor Mars his fword, nor warres quick fire fhall burne
The liuing record of your memory.
Gainft death, and all obliuious emnity
Shall you pace forth, your praife (hall Ail finde roome,
Euen in the eyes of all poHerity
That weare this world out to the ending doome.
So til the iudgement that your felfe arife.
You Hue in this, and dwell inlouers eies.
LVl.
Q W E E T loue renew thy force, be it not faid
^ I'hy edge fhould blunter be then apetite,
Which but too dale by feeding is alaied.
To morrow fliarpned in his former might.
Shaki*spjear£s Sonnets.
So loue be thou, although too dale thou fill -
Thy hungrie eies, euen till they winck with fulnefie.
Too morrow fde againe, and doe not kill
The fpirit of loue, with a perpetual dulnefle :
Let this faid intrim like the ocean be
' Which parts the Ihore, where two contracted new.
Come daily to the banckes, that when they fee :
Returne of loue, more blefi: may be the view. ^
As cal it winter, which being ful of care.
Makes fomers welcome, thrice more wifii’d, more rare.
LVII. -
Being your flaue what fiiould I doe but tend,
Vpon the houres, and times of your defire ?
I haue no precious time at al to fpend,
Nor feruices to doe til you require.
Nor dare I chide the world without end houre,
Whilfi: I (my foueraine) watch the clock lor you,
Nor thinke the bitternefie of abfence fowre,
When you haue bid your feruant once adieue.
Nor dare I queftion with my ieallous thought.
Where you may be, or your afiltires fuppofe.
But like a fad flaue flay and thinke of nought
Saue where you are, how happy you make thofe.
So true a foole is loue, that in your will,
(Though you doe any thing) he thinkes no ill.
LVIII.
HAT God forbid, that made me firfl your flaue,
I Ihould in thought controule your times of pleafure.
Or at your hand th’account of houres to craue,
^cing your vaflail bound to flaie your lelfure.
Oh
Shake-speares Sonnets;
Oh let me fufFer (being at your beck)
Th’imprifon’d abfence of your libertle,
And patience tame, to fufferance bide each check.
Without accufing you of iniury.
Be where you lifl, your charter is fo ftrong,
That you your felfe may priuiledge your time »
To what you will, to you it doth belong.
Your felfe to pardon of felfe-doing crime.
I am to waite, though waiting fo be hell.
Not blame your pleafure be it ill or well.
LIX.
I
T F their bee nothing new, but that which is,
■** Hath beene before, how are our braines beguild.
Which laboring for inuention beare amiffe
The fecond burthen of a former child ?
Oh that record could with a back-ward looke,
Euen of Hue hundreth courfes of the funne.
Show me your image in fome antique booke.
Since mindeat firft in carre^ler was done.
That I might fee what the old world could fay,
To this compofed wonder of your frame,
Whether we are mended, or where better they.
Or whether reuolution be the fame.
Oh fare I am the wits of former daies.
To fubie<5ls worfe haue giuen admiring praife.
LX.
T I K E as the waues make towards the pibled fliore,
So do our minuites haflen to their end.
Each changing place with that which goes before,
Xn fequent toile all forwards do contend.
Shake-speares Sonnets.
Natiulty once in the maine of light,
Crawles to maturity, wherewith being crown’d.
Crooked eclipfes gainft his glory fight.
And time that gaue, doth now his gift confound.
Time doth transfixe the florifii fet on youth.
And delues the paralels in beauties brow,
Feedes on the rarities of natures truth,
And nothing fiands but for his fieth to mow.
And yet to times in hope, my verfe fhall ftand
Praifing thy worth, difpight his cruell hand.
LXI.
T S it thy wil, thy image-fiiould keepe open
My heauy eielids to the weary night ?
Dofi; thou defire my flumbers fiiould be broken,
While fhadowes like to thee do mocke my fight?
Is it thy fpirit that thou fend’fi: from thee
So farre from home into my deeds to prye.
To find outfiiames and idle hcures in me.
The fkope and tenure of thy ieloufie ?
O no, thy loue though much, is not fo great.
It is my loue that keepes mine eie awake,
Mine owne true loue that doth my reft defeat.
To plaie the watch-man euer for thyifake.
For thee watch I, whilft thou doft wake elfewhere.
From me farre of, with others all to neere.
LXII.
Q I NN E of felfe-loue pofiefifeth al mine eie,
And all my foule, and al my euery part ;
And for this finne there is no remedie.
It is fo grounded inward in my heart.
Shake-speares Sonnets.
Me tliinkes no face fo gratlous is as mine.
No fiiape fo true, no truth of fuch account.
And for my felfe mine ovvne worth do define.
As I all other in all worths furmount.
But when my glaffe fhewes me my felfe indeed
Beated and chopt with tand antiquitic.
Mine owne felfe loue quite contrary I read
Selfe, fo felfe louing were iniquity,
Tis thee (my felfe) that for my felfe I praife.
Painting niy age with beauty of thy dales.
LXlir.
«
AGAINST my loue fhall be as I am now
With times iniurious hand chrufht and ore-worne.
When houres haue dreind his blood and fild his brow
With lines and wrincles, when his youthfull morne
Hath trauaild on to ages fleepie night.
And all thofe beauties whereof now he’s king
Are vanifning, or vanifht out of fight,
Stealing away the treafure of his fpring.
For fuch a time do I now for tifie
Againfl confounding ages cruell knife.
That he (hall neuer cut from memory
My fweet loues beauty, though mylouers life.
His beautie fhall in thefe blacke lines be feene.
And they fhall liue, and he in tliem Aill greene.
LXIV.
X/V' E ^ ^ feene by times fell hand defaced
The rich proud cofl of outworne buried age,
When fometime loftie towers I fee downe rafed,
And braffe eternall flaue to mortall rage.
Shake-speares Sonnets,
When I haue feene the hungry ocean gaine
Aduantage on the kingdome of the flioare.
And the firme foile win of the watry maine,
Increafing ftore with Ioffe, and Ioffe with flore.
When I haue feene fuch interchange of flate,
Or ftate it felfe confounded, to decay,
Ruine hath taught me thus to ruminate
That time will come and take my loue away.
This thought is as a death which cannot choofe
But weepe to haue, that which it feares to loofe.
LXV.
Q I N C E braffe, nor Rone, nor earth, nor boundleffe fea
^ But fad mortallity ore-fwaies their power.
How with this rage fhall beautie hold a plea,
Whofe aftion is no ftronger then a flower ?
O how fhall fummers hunny breath hold out,
Againfl the wrackfujl fledge of battring dayes, _ — ,
When rocks impregnable are not fo floute.
Nor gates of fleele fo flrong but time decayes ?
O fearefull meditation, where alack,
Shall times befl iewell from times cheR lie hid ?
Or what flrong hand can hold his fwift foote back.
Or who his fpoile or beautie can forbid ?
O none, vnleffe this miracle haue might.
That in black inck my loue may flill fhine .bright.
LXVI.
Y R’D with all thefe for reflfull death I cry,
As to behold defert a begger borne,
And needie nothing trimd in ioliitie,
And purefl faith vnhappily forfworne.
ShAKE-SPEARES SoNNETSi
And gilded honor fhamefully mifplafl.
And maiden vertiie rudely flrumpeted.
And right perfection wrongfully difgrac’d.
And ftrength by limping fway difabled.
And arte made tung tide by authoritie.
And folly (do(Sl:or-like) controuling fkill,
And fimple-truth mifcalde fimplicitie,
And captiue-good attending captaine ill.
Tyr’d with all thefe, from thcfe would I be gone,
Saue that to dye, I leaue my loue alone.
LXVII.
Ah wherefore with infe<fl;ion fhould he Hue,
And with his prefence grace impietie.
That finne by him aduantage Ihould atchiue.
And lace it felfe with his focietie ?
Why fhould falfe painting immltate his cheeke.
And ff eale dead feeing of his lining hew ?
Why fliould poore beautie indirectly feeke,
Rofes of fhaddow, fince his rofe is true ?
Why Ihould he Hue, now nature banckrout Is,
Beggerd of blood to blufh through liuely vaines,
Bor Hie hath no exchecker now but his.
And proud of many, Hues vpon his gaines ?
• O him the ftores, to fhow what welth Hie had.
In dales long fiiice, before thefe laft fo bad.
LXVIII.
H U S is his cheeke the map of daies out-worne,
"*• When beauty liu’d and dy’ed as flowers do now.
Before thefe baflard Hgnes of faire were borne,
Or durft inhabit on a liuing brow ;
Shake»speares Sonnets;
Before the goulden treffes of the dead.
The right of fepulchefs, were fliorne away,
To Hue a fcond life on fecond head.
Ere beauties dead fleece made another gay :
In him thofe holy antique howers are feene.
Without all ornament, it felfe and true.
Making no fummer of an others greene.
Robbing no ould to drelTe his beauty new,
And him as for a map doth nature Rore,
To Ihew faulfe art what beauty was of yort,
LXIX.
O S E parts of thee that the worlds eye doth view.
Want nothing chat the thought of hearts can mend ;
All toungs (the voice of foules) giuethee that end,
Vttring bare truth, euen fo as foes commend.
Their outward thus with outward praife is crownd.
But thofe fame toungs that giue thee fo thine owne,
In other accents doe this praife confound
By feeing farther then the eye hath fliowne.
They looke into the beauty of thy mind.
And that in gueffe they meafure by thy deeds,"
Then churls their thoughts (although their eies were kind)
To thy faire flower ad the rancke fmell of weeds.
But why thy odor matcheth not thy Ihow, ,
The folye is this, that thou doefl: common grow.
LXX.
^T^HAT thou art blam’d fliall not be thy defefl.
For flanders marke was euer yet the faire.
The ornament of beauty is fufpeff,
A crow that flies in heauens fweetefl: ayre.
VoL.IV. Gg ' enl
r
Shake-speares Sonnets.
So thou be good, flander doth but approue.
Their worth the greater beeing woo’d of time,
For canker vice the fweeteft buds doth loue,
And thou prefcnt’ft a pure vnftayined prime.
Thou haft paft by the ambufh of young dales.
Either not aftayld, or vi6lor beeing charg’d.
Yet this thy praife. cannot be foe thy praife.
To tye vp enuy, euermore inlarged.
If fome fufpefl of ill malkt not thy (how.
Then thou alone kingdomes of hearts ftiouldft owe
LXXI.
■^TOE longer mourne for me when I am dead.
Then you fhall heare the furly fullen bell
Glue warning to the world that I am fled
From this vile world with vildeft wormes to dwell :
Nay if you read this line, remember not.
The hand that writ it, for I loue you fo,
That I in your fweet thoughts would be forgot.
If thinking on me then fhould make you woe.
O if (I fay) you looke vpon this verfe.
When I (perhaps) compounded am with clay.
Do not fo much as my poorc name reherfe ;
But let your loue cuen with my life decay.
Leaft the wife world fhould looke into your mone,
And mocke you with me after I am gon. '
LXXIL
Leaft the world fhould talke you to recite.
What merit liu’d in me that you fhould loue
After my death (deare lone) for get me quite,
. For you in me can nothing worthy prbue. ‘
Shake-speares Sonnets#
Vnlefle you would deuife fome vertuous lye.
To doe more for me then mine owne defert,
And hang more praife vpon deceafed I,
Then nigard truth would willingly impart :
O leaft your true loue may feeme fake in this,
That you for loue fpeake well of me vntrue.
My name be buried where my body is.
And Hue no more to fhame nor me, nor you.
For I am fhamd by that which I bring forth.
And fo fhould you, to loue things nothing worth,
LXXIIL
^X^HAT time of yeeare thou maift in me behold.
When yellow leaues, or none, or few doe hange
Vpon thofe boughes which fhake againft the could.
Bare rn’wd quiers, where late the fweet birds fang.
In me thou feeft the twi-light of fuch day.
As after fun-fet fadeth in the well.
Which by and by blacke night doth take away,
Deaths fecond felfe that feals vp all in reft.
In me thou feeft the glowing of fuch fire.
That on the afhes of his youth doth lye,
As the death bed, whereon it muft expire,
Confum’d with that which it was nurrifht by.
This thou perceu’ft, which makes thy loue more ftrong,
To loue that well, which thou muft leaue ere long.
LXXIV.
T5 V T be contented when that fell areft,
With out all bayle ftiall carry me away.
My life hath in this line fome intereft,
Which for memoriall ftill with thee fhall ftay,
Gg 2
When
Shake-speares Sonnets?
When thou reuewefl’this, thou doft reuew.
The very part was confecrate.to thee,
The earth can haue but earth, which is his due,
My fpirit is thine the better part of me.
So then thou haft: but loft the dregs of life,
The pray of wormes, my body being dead.
The coward conqueft of a wretches knife,
To bafe of thee to 'be remembred.
The worth of that, is that which it containes.
And th4t is this, and this with thee remaines.
LXXV.
SP are you to my thoughts as food to life.
Or as fweet feafon’d (hewers are to the ground ;
And for the peace of you I hold fiich ftrife, '
As twixt a mifer and his wealth his found.
Now proud as an inioyer, and anon
Doubting the filching age will fteale his treafure,
Now counting beft to be with you alone.
Then betterd that the world may fee my pleafure,
Some-time all fulwith feafting on your fight.
And by and by cleane ftarued for a looke,
Pofteftingor purfuing no delight
Saue what is had, or muft from you be tooke.
Thus do I pine and furfet day by day.
Or gluttoning on all, or all away.
LXXVI.
Y is my verfe fo barren of new pride ?
^ ~ So far from variation or quicke change ?
Why with the time do I not glance afide
To new found methods, and to compounds ftrange ?
Shake-speares Sonnets.’’
Why write I ftill all one, euer the fame.
And keepe inuention in a noted weed.
That euery word doth almoft fel my name.
Shewing their birth, and where they did proceed ?
O know fweet lone I alwales write of you.
And you and loue are ftill my argument :
So all my befl is dreffing old words new.
Spending againe what is already fpent :
For as the fun is daily new and old.
So is my loue ftill telling what is told,
LXXVII.
^"T^H Y glaffe will fiiew thee how thy beauties were,
Thy dyall how thy pretious mynuits wafte.
The vacant leaues thy mindes imprint will beare.
And of this booke, this learning maift thou tafte. '
The wrinckles which thy glalTe will truly Ihow’
Of mouthed graues will giue thee memorie.
Thou by thy dyals fhady flealth malft know.
Times theeuilh progreffe to eternitie.
Looke what thy memorie cannot containe.
Commit to thefe wafle blacks, and thou ftialt finde
Thofe children nurlf, deliuerd from thy braine.
To take a new acquaintance of thy minde.
Thefe offices, fo oft as thou wilt looke.
Shall profit thee, and much inrich thy booke,
LXXVIII.
SO oft haue I inuok’d thee for my mufe.
And found fuch faire affiftance in my verfe,
As euery alien pen hath got my vfe.
And vnder thee their poefie dlfperfe.
Gg 3
Thine
Shake-speares Sonnets.
Thinc eyes, that taught the dumbe on high to fing.
And heauie ignorance aloft to flie,
Haue added fethers to the learneds wing,
And giuen grace a double maieflie.
Yet be molt proud of that which I compile,
Whofe influence is thinc, and borne of thee.
In others workes thou dooft but mend the flile.
And arts with thy fweete graces graced be.
But thou art all my art, and doofl aduance
As high as learning, my rude ignorance,
LXXIX.
I L S T I alone did call vpon thy ayde,
^ ^ My verfe alone had all thy gentle grace.
But now my gracious numbers are dccayde.
And my fick mijfe doth giue an other place.
I grant (fweet bue) thy louely argument
Deferues the trauaile of a worthier pen.
Yet what of thee thy poet doth inuent.
He robs thee of, and payes it thee againc.
He lends thee vertue, and he flole that word.
From thy behauiour, beautie doth he giue.
And found it in thy cheeke : he can afFoord
No praife to thee, but what in thee doth liue.
Then thanke him not for that which he doth fay.
Since what he pwes thee, thou thy felfe doofl pay,
LXXX.
H how I faint when I of you do write.
Knowing a better fpirit doth vfe your name.
And in the praife thereof fpends all his might,
Tp njake me toung-tide fpe^ng of your fame.
Shake-speares Sonnets.
But fince your worth (wide as the ocean Is)
The humble as the proudefl faile doth beare.
My fawfie barke (inferior farre to his)
On your broad maine doth wilfully appeare.
Your (halloweft helpe will hold me vp a floate,
Whilfl: he vpon your foundlefTe deepe doth ride,
Or (being wrackt) I am a worthiefle bote.
He of tall building, and of goodly pride.
Then if he thriue and I be call away.
The worft was this, my loue was my decay.
LXXXL
I lhall Hue your epitaph to make,
Or you furuiue when I in earth am rotten.
From hence your memory death cannot take.
Although in me each part will be forgotten.
Your name from hence immortall life lhall haue.
Though I (once gone) to all the world muff dye.
The earth can yeeld me but a common graue.
When you intombed in mens eyes lhall lye.
Your monument lhall be my gentle verfe.
Which eyes not yet created lhall ore-read.
And toungs to be, your beeing lhall rehearfe.
When all the breathers of this world are dead, ,
You Rill lhall Hue (fuch vertue hath my pen)
Where breath moR breaths, euen in the mouths of men.
LXXXII.
T Grant thou wert not married to my mufe,
And therefore maieR without attaint ore-looke
The dedicated words which writers vfe
Of their faire fubiecf, bleiTing euery booke.
Gg 4
Thou
• Shake-speares Sonnets."’
Thou art as faire in knowledge as in hew.
Finding thy worth a limmit part my praife,
And therefore art inforc’d to feeke anew.
Some frefher ftampe of the time bettering dayes.
' And do fo lone, yet when they haue deuifde.
What drained touches rhethorick can lend.
Thou truly faire, wert truly fimpathizde.
In true plaine words, by thy true telling friend.
And their grolTe painting might be better vs’d.
Where cheekes need blood, in thee it is abuf’d.
LXXXIII.
T Neuer faw that you did painting need,
' And therefore to your faire no painting fet,
I found (or thought I found) you did exceed.
The barren tender of a poets debt ; ;
And therefore haue I flept in your report.
That you your felfe being extant well might fhow.
How farre a moderne quill doth come to fhort,
Speaking of worth, what worth in you doth grow.
This filence for my finne you did impute,
Which (hall be moll: my glory being dombe, •
For I Impaire not beautie being mute,
\Vhen others would giue life, and bring a tombe.
There Hues more life in one of your faire eyes,
Then both your poets can in praife deuife. •
LXXXIV.
THO is It that fayes mof>, which can fay more,
^ Then this rich praife, that you alone, are you,
fn whofe confine Immured is the Hore,
Which Ihould example where your equall grew.
Lean
.ta
Shake-speares Sonnets.
Leane peniuie within that pen doth dwell.
That to his fubiecft lends not fome fmall glory.
But he that writes of you, if he can tell,
That you are you, fo dignifies his flory.
Let him but coppy what in you is writ,
Not making worfe what nature made fo cleere.
And fuch a counter-part fiiall fame his wit.
Making his flile admired euery where.
You to your beautious blefiings adde a curfe,
Being fonH on praife, which makes your praifes worfe.
LXXXV.
T\ /F Y toung-tide mufe in manners holds her Bill,
While comments of your praife richly compil’d,
Referue their chara<5i:er with goulden quill,
And precious phrafe by all the mufes fil’d.
I thinke good thoughts, whilfl other write good wordes.
And like vnlettered clarke ftill crie amen,
To euery himne that able fpirit affords,
In pollifht forme of well refined pen.
Hearing you praifd, I fay ’tis fo, ’tis true.
And to the mofi: of praife adde fome-thing more,
But that is in my thought, whofe loue to you
(Though words come hind-mofl) holds his ranke before.
Then others, for the breath of words refpedf.
Me for my dombe thoughts, fpeaking in effeff.
LXXXVI.
TIT A S it the proud full faile of his great verfe,
^ Bound for the prize of (all to precious) you
That did my ripe thoughts in my braine inhearce.
Making their tombe the wombe wherein they grew ?
Shake-speared Sonnets.
Was It his fplrlt, by fplrits taught to write,
Aboue a mortall pitch, that ftruck me dead i
No, neither he, nor his compiers by night
Gluing him ayde, my verfe aftonilhed.
He nor that affable familiar ghoft
Which nightly gulls him with intelligence.
As vi(flors of my filence cannot boaft,
I was not fick of any feare from thence.
But when your countinance fild vp his line.
Then lackt I matter, that infeebied mine.
LXXXVII.
T7Arewell thou art too deare for my pofTeffing,
And like enough thou knowft thy eftimate.
The charter of thy worth giues thee releafing :
My bonds in thee are all determinate.
For how do I hold thee but by thy granting.
And for that ritches where is my deferuing ?
The caufe of this faire guift in me is wanting,
And fo my pattent back againe is fweruing.
Thy felfe thou gau’fi, thy owne worth then not knowing.
Or mee to whom thou gau’fi: it, elfe miftaking,
So thy great guift vpon mifprifion growing.
Comes home againe, on better iudgement making.
Thus haue I had thee as a dreame doth flatter.
In fleef^ a king, but waking no fuch matter.
LXXXVIII.
HEN thou lhalt be difpofde to fet me light,
^ ^ And place my merrit in the eie of fkorne,
Vpon thy fide, againfl my felfe He fight,
And proue thee virtuous, though thou art forfworne :
With
ShAKB*SP£ ARES SONKETS.
With mine owne weakeneflTe being beft acquainted,
Vpon thy part I can fet downe a flory
Of faults conceald, wherein I am attainted :
That thou in loofing me fhall win much glory.
And I by this wil be a gainer too,
For bending all my louing thoughts on thee.
The iniuries that to my felfe I doe,
Doing thee vantage, duble vantage me.
Such is my loue, to thee I fo belong.
That for thy right, my felfe will beare all wrong.
LXXXIX.
0 A Y that thou didfl: forfake mee for fome fait.
And I will comment vpon that offence,
Speake of my lameneffe, and I ftraight will halt :
Againft thy reafons making no defence.
Thou canft not (loue) difgrace me halfe fo ill,
To fet a forme vpon defired change.
As He my felfe difgrace, knowing thy wll,
1 will acquaintance Itrangle and looke flrange :
Be abfent from thy walkes and in my tongue.
Thy fwcet beloued name no more fliall dwell,
Leaft I (too much prophane) Ihould do it wronge :
And haplie of our old acquaintance tell.
For thee, againft my felfe He vow debate.
For I muft ncre loue him whom thou doft hate.
XC.
PT' HEN hate me when thou wilt, if euer, now.
Now while the world is bent my deeds to croiTe,
Joyne with the fpight of fortune, make me bow.
And doe not drop Iq for an after lolTe ;
Shake-speares Sonnets.
Ah doe not, when my heart hath fcapte this forrow,
Come in the rereward of a conquerd woe,
Giue not a windy night a rainie morrow, , .
To linger out a purpofd ouer-throw.
If thou wilt leaue me, do not leaue me laff, ^
When other pettie griefes haue done their fpight,
But in the onfet come, fo fhall I tafte
At firft the very worft of fortunes might.
And other ftraines of woe, which now feeme woe,
ComparM with lofle of thee, will not feeme fo.
XCI.
SOME glory in their birth, fome in their (kill.
Some in their wealth, fome In their bodies force.
Some in their garments though new-fangled ill :
Some in their hawkes and hounds, fome in their horfe.
And euery humor hath his adiun£t pleafure,
Wherein it Andes a ioy aboue the reft.
But thefe perticulers are not my meafure,
All thefe I better in one generall beft.
Thy loue Is bitter then high birth to me.
Richer then wealth, prouder then garments coif.
Of more delight then hawkes or horfes bee :*
And hauing thee, of all mens pride I boafl:.
Wretched in this alone, that thou maid: take.
All this away, and me mofl wretched make,
XCII.
"D V T doe thy worft to fteale thy felfe away,
^ For tearme of life thou art alTured mine,
And life no longer then thy loue will flay,
For it depends vpon that loue of thine.
Shake^speares Sonnets.
Then need I not to feare the worft of wrongs.
When in the lead: of them my life hath end, . :
I fee, a better flate to me belongs
Then that, which on thy humor doth depend.
Thou canfl not vex me with inconflant minde.
Since that my life on thy reuolt doth lie.
Oh what a happy title do I finde.
Happy to haue thy loue, happy to die !
But whats fo bleded faire that feares no blot,
Thou maid be fake, and yet I know it not.
XCIII.
SO.fliall I line, fuppodng thou art true.
Like a deceiued hufband, fo loues face.
May ftill feeme loue to me, though alter’d new :
Thy lookes with me, thy heart in other place.
For their can Hue no hatred in thine eye,
Therefore in that I cannot know thy change.
In manies lookes, the fake hearts hidory
Is writ in moods and frounes and wrinckles flrange.
But heauen in thy creation did decree.
That in thy face fweet loue ftiould euer dwell.
What ere thy thoughts, or thy 'hear ts workings be.
Thy lookes fhould nothing thence, but fweetneffe tell.
How like Eaues apple doth thy beauty grow.
If thy fweet vertue anfwere not thy Ihow.
XCIV.
HEY that haue powre to hurt, and will doe none,
That doe not do the thing, they mod do (howe.
Who mouing others, are themfelues as done,
Vnraooued, could, and to temptation dow;
They
Shake-speares Sownets.
They rightly do inherrlt hcauens graces.
And hulband natures ritches from expence.
They are the lords and owners of their faces.
Others, but ftewards of their excellence :
The fommers flowre is to the foramer fweet,
•Though to it felfe, it onely liue and die.
But if that flowre with bafe infedlion meete.
The bafefl weed out-braues his dignity :
For fweeteft things turne fowreft by their deedes,
Lillies that feAer, fmell far worfe then weeds.
XCV.
TT O W fweet and louely doA thou make the Ihame,
Which like a canker in the fragrant rofe.
Doth fpot the beautie of thy budding name ?
Oh in what fweets doeft thou thy finnes inclofe !
That tongue that tells the ftory of thy dales,
(Making lafciuious comments on thy fport)
Cannot difpraife, but in a kinde of praife.
Naming thy name, bleffes an iU report.
Oh what a manfion haue thofe vices got.
Which for their habitation chofe out thee,
Where beauties vaiie doth couer euery blot,
And all things turnes to faire, that eies can fee !
Take heed (deare heart) of this large priuiledge,
• The hardeft knife ill vs’d doth loofe his edge.
XCVL
SOM E fay thy fault is youth, fome wantonefle.
Some fay thy grace is youth and gentle fport.
Both grace and faults are lou’d of more and lefle :
Thou makft faults graces, that to thee refort :
Shake-speares Sonnets.
As on the finger of a throned queene.
The bafeft iewell wil be well efieem’d :
So are thofe errors that in thee are feene.
To truths tranflated, and for true things deemed.
How many lambs might the fterne wolfe betray.
If like a lambe he could his lookes tranflate.
How many gazers mlghfi: thou lead away,
If thou wouldfi vfe the ftrength of all thy ftate ?
But doe not fo, I loue thee in fuch fort.
As thou being mine, mine is thy good report.
XCVII.
T T O W like a winter hath my abfence beene *’
^ From thee, the pleafure of the fleeting yeare ?
What freezings haue I felt, what darke dales feene ?
What old Decembers barenefle euery where ?
And yet this time remould was fommers time.
The teeming autumne big with ritch increafe,
Bearing the wanton burthen of the prime,
Like widdowed wombes after their lords deceafe :
Yet this aboundant ifliie feem’d to me.
But hope of orphans, and vn-fathered fruite,
For fommer and his pleafures waite on thee.
And thou away, the very birds are mute.
Or if they fing, tis with fo dull a cheere.
That leaues looke pale, dreading the winters neere.
xcvrn.
Tp ROM you haue I beene abfent in the fpring,
When proud pide Aprill (dreft in all his trim)
Hath put a fpirit of youth in euery thing :
That hQSLmeSaturne laught and leapt with him.
,V.i
•a,
Yet
Shajce-speares Sonnets.
Yet nor the hies of birds, nor the fweet fmcll
Of different flowers in odor.and in hew.
Could make me any fummers flory tell :
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew :
Nor did I wonder at the lillies white.
Nor praife the deepe Vermillion in the rofe,
They weare but fweet, but figures of delight :
Drawne after you, you patterne of all thofe.
Yet feem’d it winter fflll, and you away.
As with your fhaddow I ’with thefe did play.
XCIX.
H E forward violet thus did I chide, •
Sweet theefe whence didfl: thou ffeale thy fweet that
fmels ' ' ' •
If not from my loues breath, the purple pride,
Which on thy foft cheeke for complexion dwells ?
In my loues veines thou hafl: too grofely died,
The lillie I condemned for thy hand.
And buds of marierom had flolne thy haire.
The rofes fearefully on thornes did ffand.
Our blufliing fliame, an other white difpaire: ,
A third nor red, nor white, had flolne of both,.
And to his robbry had annext thy breath.
But for his theft in pride of all his growth
A vengfull canker eate him vp to death.
More flowers I noted, yet I none could fee,
But fweet, or culler it had flolne from thee.
^ . c.- ' • ' -
HERE art thou 'mufe that thou forgetfl fo long,
• To fpeake of that, which glues thee all thy might ?
. Spendft thou thy furie on fome worthlefle fonge,
Darkning thy powre to lend bafe fubiedls light.
Returne
Shake-speares Sonnets.
Returne forgetfull mufe, and Rraight redceme,
In'gentle numbers time fo idely fpent,
Sing to the eare that doth thy laies efteeme.
And giues thy pen both fkill and argument.
Rife redy mufe, my loues fweet face furuay,
If time haue any wrincle grauen there.
If any, be a fatire to decay,
And make times fpoiles difpifed euery where.
Giue my loue fame fader then time wads life.
So thou preuend his fieth, and crooked knife.
Cl. '
H truant mufe what dial be thy amends.
For thy neglefl of truth in beauty di’d ?
Both truth and beauty on my loue depends :
So dod thou too, and therein dignifi’d :
Make anfwere mufe, wilt thou not haply faie.
Truth needs no collour with his collour fixt,
Beautie no penfell, beauties truth to lay:
But bed is bed, if neuer intermixt. ^
Becaufe he needs no praife, wilt thou be dumb ?
Excufe not filence fo, for’t lies in thee,
To make him much out-liue a gilded tombe ;
And to be praifd of ages yet to be.
Then do thy odice mufe, I teach thee how,
To make him feeme long hence, as he fhowes |iow»
CII.
]V /T Y loue Is drengthned though more weake in feeming
I loue not lede, thogh leffe the diow appeare.
That loue is marchandiz’d, whofe ritch edeeming,
The owners tongue doth publifh euery where.
VoL. IV. H h
Our
ShAKE-SPEARES SonN’ETS.'
Our loue was new, and then but m the fpring,
When I was wont to greet it with my laies.
As PbilGmell in fummers front doth finge.
And flops his pipe in growth of riper daies :
Not that the fummer is lefTe pleafant now
Then when her mournefull himns did hufh the night.
But that wild mu Tick burthens eucry bow,
And fweets growne common loofe their deare delight.
Therefore like her, I fome-time hold my tongue :
Becaufe I would not dull you with my fonge.
cm.
ALACK what pouerty my mufe brings forth,
That hauing fuch a-fkope to fhow her pride,
The argument all bare is of more worth
Then when it hath my added praife befide.
Oh blame me not if I no more can write !
Looke in your glaffe and there appeares a face,
That ouer-goes my blunt inuention quite.
Dulling my lines, and doing me difgrace.
Were it not finfull then flriuing to mend.
To marre the fubieft that before was well.
For to no other pafTe my verfes tend.
Then of your graces and your gifts to tell.
And more, much more then in my verfe can fit.
Your owne glaffe fhowes you, when you looke in it.
CIV.
O me,faire friend you neuer can be old,
*** For as you were when firfl your eye I eyde.
Such feemes your beau tie flill : three winters colde,
Haue from the forrefts fhooke three fummers pride.
/
Shakle-speaPvEs Sonnets,
■^Three beautlous fprlrigs to yellow autumhe fum’d,
in procefTe of the feafons haue I feene.
Three Aprill perfumes in three hot lunes burn’d,
Since' firfl I faw you frefli which yet are greene.
Ah yet doth beauty like a dyall hand,
Steale from his figure, and no pace perceiu’d.
So yqur fweete hew, which me thinkes flill doth fland
Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceaued. ^
For feare of which, heare this thou age vnbred,
Ere you were borne was beauties fummer dead.
CV.
■J' E T not my loue be cal^d idolatrie.
Nor my beloued as an idol I fhow.
Since all alike my fongs and praifes be
To one, of one, fiill fuch, and euer fo.
Kinde is my loue to day, to morrow kinde,
Still conflant in a wondrous excellence.
Therefore my verfe to conftancie confin’dc.
One thing exprefling, leaues out difference.
Faire, kinde, and true, is all my argument,
Faire, kinde, and true, varrying to other words.
And in this change is my inuerition fpent.
Three theams in one, which wondrous fcope affords.
Faire, kinde, and true, haue often lin’d alone.
Which three till now, neuer kept feate in one.
CVI.
E N chronicle of wafred time,
I fee difcriptions of the fairefl: wights,
And beautie making beautifull old rime.
In praife of ladies dead, and louely knights.
H h 2
. The
Shake-speAres Sonnets.
Then in the blazon of fweet beauties beft.
Of hand, of foote, of lip, of eye, of brow,
I fee their antique pen would haue exprefl,
Euen fuch a be^auty as you maifter now.
So all their praifes are but prophefies
Of this our time, all you prefiguring.
And for they look’d but with deuining eyes.
They had not ftili enough your worth to fing :
For we which now behold thefe prefect dayes,
• Haue eyes to wonder, but lack toungs to praife,
evil.
O T mine owne feares, nor the prophetick foule,
^ Of the wide world, dreaming on things to come.
Can yet the leafe of my true loue controule,
Suppofde as forfeit to a confin’d doome.
Themortall moone hath her eclipfe indur’de.
And the fad augurs mock their owne prefage,
Incertenties now crowne them-felues afTur’de,
And peace proclaimes oliues of endlelTe age,
Now with the drops of this moft balmie time.
My loue lookes frefh, and death to me fubfct ibes,
Since fpight of him He liue in this poore rime.
While he infults ore dull and fpeachlclfe tribes.
And thou in this flialt finde thy monument.
When tyrants crefts and tombs of bralTe are fpent.
CVIII.
W/ HAT’S in the braine that inck may character,
^ ^ Which hath not figur’d to thee my true fpirit.
What’s new to fpeake, what now to regiflcr.
That may exprclfe my loue, or thy deare merit ?
Shake-speares Sonnets.
Nothing fweet boy, but yet like prayers diuine,
1 muft each day fay ore the very fame,
Counting no old thing old, thou mine, I thine,
Euen as when firfl: I hallowed thy faire name.
So that eternal 1 loue in lones frefh cafe,
Waighes not the duff and iniury of age.
Nor giues to neceffary wrinckles place.
But makes antiquitie for aye his page.
Finding the firfi: conceit of loue there bred,
.Where time and outward forme would /hew it dead.
CIX.
Neuer fay that I was falfe of heart.
Though abfence feem’d my flame to quallifie,
As eafie might I from my felfe depart.
As from my foule which in thy brefl: doth lye ;
That is my home of loue, if I haue rang’d,
Like him that trauels I returne againe,
lufl: to the time, not with the time exchang’d.
So that my felfe bring water for my ftaine,
Neuer beleeue though in my nature raign’d.
All frailties that befiege all kindes of blood,
That it could fo prepofterouflie be flain’d.
To leane for nothing all thy fumme of good :
"For nothing this wide vniuerfe I call,
Saue thou my rofe, in it thou art my all.
cx. •
A* L A S ’tis true, I haue gone here and there.
And made my felfe a motley to the view.
Gor’d mine owne thoughts, fold cheap what is moil: deafe.
Made old o/Fences of a/fedlions new.
H h 3
Mo/l
' Shake-speares Sonnets.
Mofl: true It is, that I hauc lookt on truth
Afconcc and flrangcly : but by all abouc,
Thefe blenches gaue my heart an other youth,
And worfe efTaies prou’d thee my befl: of lone.
Now all is done, haue what fhall haue no end,
Mine appetite I neucr more will grin’de
On newer proofe, to trie an older friend,
A God in loue, to whom I am confin’d.
Then giue me welcome, next my heauen the belf,
Ellen to thy pure and mofl mofllouing breft.
CXL
For my fake doe you wifii fortune chide.
The guiltie goddefie of my harmfull deeds,
That did not better for my life prouide.
Then publick meanes wdiich publick manners breeds.
Thence comes it that my name receiues a brand,
And almoft thence my nature is fubdu’d
To what it workes in, like the dyers hand,
Pitty me then, and vvifii I were renu’de,
Whilfi like’a willing pacient I will drinke,
Potions of eyfeil gainfr my flrong infection.
No bitternefie that I will'bitter thinke,
Nor double pennance to corred edrredion.
Pittie me then deare friend, and I afiiire yee,
Ellen that 3'our pittie is enough to cure mee.
CXIL
OUR loue and pittie doth th’imprcfTion fill,
'*■ Which vulgar fcandall flampt vpon my brow.
For what care I who calles me well or ill,
So you oi e-grcene my bad, my good alow I
You
Shake-speares Sonnets.
You are my all the world, and I mufl: ftriue.
To know my fnames and praifes from your tounge,
None elfe to me, nor I to none aliue.
That my Heel’d fence or changes right or wrong,
In fo profound abifme I throw all care
Of others voyces, that my adders fence,
To cryttick and to flatterer flopped are :
Marke how with my neglecfl I doe difpence.
You are fo flrongly in my purpofe bred.
That all the world befides me thinkes y’are dead.
cxrii.
Q I N C E I left you, mine eye Is in my minde,
And that which gouernes me to goe about.
Doth part his fundlion, and is partly blind,
Seemes feeing, but effedfually is out : '
For it no forme deliuers to the heart
Of bird, of flowre, or fhape which it doth lack,
Of his quick obiefts hath the minde no part,
Nor his owne vifion houlds what it doth catch :
For if it fee the rud’fl or gentlefl fight.
The mofl fweet-fauor or deformedft creature,
The mountaine, or the fea, the day, or night :
The crce, or done, it fhapes them to your feature.
Incapable of more repleat, with you.
My mofl true minde thus maketh mine vntrue.
CXIV.
R whether doth my minde being crown’d with you
Drinke vp the monarks plague this flattery ^
Or whether fliall I fay mine eie faith true.
And that your loue taught it this alcumie ?
H h 4
Shake-speares Sonnets,
To make of mongers, and things indigefV,
Such cherubines as your fweet felfe refemble.
Creating euery bad a perfect: befl
As faft as obie6ls to his beames afTemble :
Oh tis the firfl, tis flatry in my feeing,
And my great minde mofl kingly drinkes it vp,
Mine eie well knowcs what with his gull is greeing.
And to hispallat doth prepare the cup.
If it be poifon’d, tis the Icffer finne,
That mine eye loues it and doth firft beginne.
cxv.
HOSE- lines that I before haue writ doe lie,
Euen thofe that faid I could not loue you.deerer^
Yet then my iudgement knew no rcafon why.
My moll full flame fliould afterwards burne cleerer.
But reckening time, whofe milliond accidents
Creepe In twixt vowes, and change decrees of kings.
Tan facred beautie, blunt the fharp’fl intents,
, Diuert flrong liiindes to th’courfe of altring things:
Alas why fearing of times tiranie,
Might 1 not then fay now I loue you befl,
When I was certaine ore in-certainty, ^
Crowning the prefenr, doubting of the refl.
Loue is a babe, then might I not fay fo
To giue full growth to that which flill doth grow.
CXVI.
T E T me not to the marriage of true mindes
Admit impediments, lone is not loue
Which alters when it alteration Andes,
Or bends with the remouer to remoue.
Shake-speares Sonnets,"
O no, it is an euer fixed marke
That lookes on tempefts and is neiier fhaken ;
It is the flar to euery wandring barke,
Whofe worths vnknowne, although his higth be taken,
Lou’s not times foole, though rofie lips and cheeks
Within his bending fickles compafTe come,
toue alters not with his breefe hourcs and weekcs.
But bearesitout euen to the edge of doome:
If this be error and vpon me proued,
I neuer writ, nor no man eucr loued.
CXVII.
A C C U S E me thus, that I hane fcanted all.
Wherein I fiionld your great defer ts repay.
Forgot vpon your deareft loue to call,
Whereto al bonds do tie me day by day.
That I haue frequent binne with vnknown mindes,
And giuen to time your owne deare purchas’d right,
That I haue hoyfted fade to al the windes
Which fhould tranfport me farthefl from your fight,
Booke both my wilfuIne/Te and errors downe.
And on iuft proofe furmife, accumilate.
Bring me within the leuel of your frowne.
But fhoote not at me in your wakened hate :
Since my appcale faies I did flriue to prooue
The conftancy and virtue of your loue.
CXVIII.
y ^ I K E as to make our appetites more keene
With eager compounds we our pallatvrge.
As to preuent our malladies vnfeene,
We ficken to fhun fickneffe when we purge.
ShAKE-SPE ARES SoNNETS.'
Euen fo being full of your ncre cloying fwcetncflc.
To bitter fawces did I frame my feeding ;
And ficke of wel-fare found a kind of meetnefle,
To be difeas’d ere that there was true needing.
Thus pollicie in loue t’anticipate
The ills that were, not grew to faults alTured,
And brought to medicine a healthfull flate
Which rancke of goodnefle would by ill be cured.
But thence I learne and find the lefTbn true.
Drugs poyfon him that fo fell ficke of you.
CXIX.
"ll^HAT potions haue 1 drunke of Syren teares
Diftil’d from lymbecks foule as hell within,
Applying feares to hopes, and hopes to feares.
Still loofing when I faw my felfe to win ?
What wretched errors hath my heart committed,
Whilft it hath thought it felfe fo blefTed neuer ?
How haue mine eies out of their fpheares bene fitted
In the difiraffion of this madding feuer \
O beneiit of ill, now I find true
That better is, by eiiil fiill made better.
And ruin’d loue when it is built anew
Growes fairer then at firfi:, more firong, far greater.
So I returne rebukt to my content.
And gaine by ills thrife more then I haue fpent.
• cxx.
THx\T you were once vnkind be-friends mee now,
And for that forrow, which I then didde feele,
Needes mufl: I vnder my tranfgreffion bow,
Vnlefie my nerues were brafle or hammered fieele.
Shake-speares Sonnets,
For if you were by my vokindefTe fhakeu
As I by yours, y’haue paft a hell of time.
And I a tyrant haue no leafure taken
To waigh how once I fufFered in your crime.
0 that our night of wo might haue remembred
My deepeft fence, how hard true forrow hits.
And foone to you, as you to me then tendred
The humble falue, which wounded bofomes fits !
But that vour trefpafie now becomes a fee,
Mine ranfoms yours, and yours muft ranfome mee,
cxxr.
t I S better to be vile then vile efieemed,
When not to be receiues reproach of being.
And the iufi pleafure loft, which is fo deemed.
Not by our feeling, but by others feeing.
For why ftiould others falfe adulterat eyes
Giue falutation to my fportiue blood ?
Or on my frailties why are frailer fpies ;
Which in their wils count bad what I think good ?
Noe, I am that I am, and they that leuell
At my abufes, reckon vp their owne,
1 may be ftraight though they themfelues be beuel
By their ranke thoughtes, my deedes muft not be fhowa*
Vnlefie this generail euili they maintaine.
All men are bad and in their badnefte raigne.
CXXII.
TH y guift, thy tables, are within my brains
Full chara(fterd with lafting memory,
Which lhall aboue that idle rancke remaine
Beyond all date euen to eternity.
Or
Shake-speares Sonnets.
Or at the leaft, fo long bralne and heart
Haue facultie by nature to fubfift,
Til each to raz’d obliuion yeeld his part
Of thee, thy record neuer can be mill :
That poore retention could not fo much hold.
Nor need I tallies thy deare loue to Ikore,
Therefore to giue them from me was I bold.
To truft thofe tables that receaue thee more.
To keepe an adiunckt to remember thee.
Were to import forgctfulnefie in mce.
cxxriL
*1^0 ! Time, thou (halt not boft that I doe change.
Thy pyramyds buylt vp with newer might
'I o me are nothing nouell, nothing ftrange.
They are but dreffings of a former fight :
Our dates are breefe, and therefor we admire.
What thou dofi: foyfl vpon vs that is ould.
And rather make them borne to our defire.
Then thinke that we before haue heard them tould s
Thy regifters and thee I both defie,
Not wondring at the prefent, nor the pafi.
For thy records, and what we fee doth lye.
Made more or les by thy continual! haft :
This I doe vow and this fhall euer be,
I will be true difpight thy fyeth and thee.
exxiv.
"KT'F my deare loue were but the childe of (late,
, It might for fortunes bafterd be vnfathered,
As fubiefl to times loue, or to times hate,
Weeds among weeds, or flowers with flowers gatherd.
Shake-speares Sonnets^
No it was buylded far from accident.
It fuffers not in fmilinge pomp, nor falls
Vnder the blow of thralled difcontent.
Whereto th’irtuiting time our fafhion calls ;
It feares not policy that heriticke.
Which workes on leafes of fliort numbred howers.
But all alone (lands hugely pollitick,
That it nor growes with heat, nor drownes with (howres.
To this I witnes call the foies of time.
Which die for goodnes, who haue liu’d for crime.
cxxv.
WER ’t ought to me I bore the canopy,
With my extern the outward honoring,
Or layd great bafes for eternity,
Which proues more (liort then wall or ruining ?
Haue I not feene dwellers on forme and fauor
Lofe all, and more by paying too much rent
For compound fweet ; forgoing fimple fauor,
Pittifull thriuors in their gazing fpent.
Noe, let me be obfequious in thy heart.
And take thou my oblacion, poore but free.
Which is not mixt with feconds, knows no art.
But mutuall render onely me for thee.
Hence, thou fubbornd informer, a trew foule
When mod impeacht, (lands lead in thy controule.
CXXVI.
Thou my lonely boy who in thy power,
Doed hould times fickle glade, his fickle, hower ;
Who had by wayning growne, and therein (hou’d,
Thy loners withering, as thy fweet felfe grow’d.
Shake-speares SonnetsT
If nature (foueralne mifleres ouer wrack)
As thou goeft onwards flill will plucke thee backc.
She keepes thee to this purpofe, that' her fkill.
May time difgracc, and wretched mynuit kill.
Yet feare her O thou minnion of her pleafure.
She may detaine, but not flill keepe her trefure !
Her audit e (though delayd) anfwer’d mufl be.
And her quietus is to render thee.
CXXVlI.
TN the ould age blacke was not counted faire>
Or if it weare it bore not beauties name :
But now is blacke beauties fucceffiue heire,
And beautie fianderd with a baflard fhame,
Forfince each hand hath put on natures power.
Fairing the foule with artsfaulfe borrow’d face,
Sweet beauty hath no name no holy boure.
But is prophan’d, if not Hues in difgrace.
Therefore my miflerfle eyes are rauen blacke.
Her eyes fo futed, and they mourners feeme.
At fuch who not borne faire no beauty lack,
Slandring creation with a falfe efleerrie,
Yet fo they mourne becomming of their woe.
That euery toung faies beauty flaouldlooke fo.
CXXVIII.
TTOW oft when thou my mufike mufike playff,
Vpon that blelTed wood whofe motion founds
With thy fweet fingers when thou gently fwayfe
The wiry concord that mine eare confounds.
Do
Shake-speares Sonnets#
Do I enuie^thofe iackes that nimble leape,
To kifTe the tender inward of thy hand,
Whilfl my poore lips which fhould that harueft reape,
At the woods bouldnes by thee blufhing ftand.
To be fo tikled they would change their ftate.
And htuation with thofe dancing chips, : ;
Ore whome their fingers walke with gentle gate.
Making dead wood more bleft then liuing lips.
Since faufie iackes fo happy are in this,
Giue them their fingers, me thy lips to kifTe.
CXXIX.
expence of fpirit in a wafie of fhame
lull in atflion, and till adlion, luft, .
Is periurd, murdrous, blouddy full of blame,
Sauage, extreame,. rude, cruell, not to truft,
Inioyd no fooner but difpifed flraight,
Paft reafon hunted, and no fooner had
Paft reafon hated as a fwollowed bayt.
On purpofe layd to make the taker mad.
Made in purfut and in pofTefTion fo.
Had, hauing, and in quefl, to haue extreame,
A blifTe in proofe and proud and very wo.
Before a ioy propofd behind a dreame,
All this the world well knowes yet none knowes well,
To fhun the heauen that leads men to this hell,
cxxx.
A yTY miftres eyes are nothing like thefunne,
Currall is farre more red, then her lips red,
If fnow be white, why then her brefts are dun :
If haires be wiers, black wiers grow on her head :
I haue
/
Shaice-speares Sonnets*
I haue feenc rofes damafkt, red and white.
But no fuch rofes fee I in her cheekes.
And in fome perfumes is there more delight.
Then in the breath that from my miftres reekes.'
I loue to heare her fpeake, yet well I know,
That muficke hath a fane more pleafing found :
I graunt I neuer faw a goddeffe goe,
My miflres when dice walkes treads on the ground*
And yet by heauen I thinke my lone as rare.
As any (lie bcli’d with fidfe compare.
CXXXI.
^^HOU art as tirannous, fo as thou art,
As thofe whofe beauties proudly make them cruell i
For well thou know’ft to my deare doting hart
Thou art the faired and mod precious iewell.
Yet in good faith fome fay that thee behold,
Thy face hath not the power to make loue grone ;
To fay they erre, I dare not be fo bold,
Although I fweare it to my felfe alone.
And to be lure that is not falfe I fweare
A thoufand grones but thinking on thy face,'
One on anothers hecke do witnefle beare ^
Thy blacke is faired in my iudgements place.
In nothing art thou blacke faue in thy deeds.
And thence this daunder as I thinke proceeds,
CXXXII.
H INE eies I loue, and they aspittying me,
Knowing thy heart torment me with difdaiue,
Haue put on black, and louing mourners bee,
Looking with pretty ruth vpon my paine.
Shake-speares Sonnets*
And truly not the morning fun of heauen
Better becomes the gray cheeks of th’eafi:.
Nor that full flarre that vlhers in the eaueri
Doth halfe that glory to the fober weft
As thofe two morning eyes become thy face t
O let it then as well befeeme thy heart
To mourne for me fince mourning doth thee grace,
And fute thy pitty like in eUery part.
Then will I fweare beauty her felfe is blacke.
And all they foule that thy complexion lacke*
CXXXIII.
T> E SH R E W that heart that makes my heart to groane
For that deepe wound it gines my friend and me ;
I’ft not ynough to torture me alone,
But flaue to flauery my fweet’ft friend muftbe.
Me from my felfe thy cruell eye hath taken,
And my next felfe thou harder haft ingrofled.
Of him, my felfe, and thee I am forfaken,
A torment thrice three-fold thus to be crofted :
Poifon my heart in thy fteele bofomes warde,
But then my friends heart let my poore heart bale,
Who ere keepes me, let my heart be his garde,
Thou canft not then vfe rigor in my iaile.
And yet thou wilt, for I being pent in thee,
Perforce am thine and all that is in me*
CXXXIV.
Q O now I haue confeft that he is thine,
^ And I my felfe am morgag’d to thy will.
My felfe He forfeit, fo that other mine,
Thou wilt reftore to be my comfort ftill :
VoL. IV. I i But
-■ c
Shake-speares Sonnets,'
But thou wilt not, nor he will not be free, -
For thou art couetous, and he'is.kinde,
He learnd but furetie-like to write for me, ' '
Vnder that bond that him as fall doth binde.
The ftatute of thy beauty thou wilt take, .
Thou vfurer that put’ft forth all to vfe.
And fue a friend, came debter for my fake,
So him I loofe through my vnkinde abufe.
Him haue I lofl, thou haft both him and me.
He paies the whole, and yet am I not free. * ‘
cxxxv.
H O aier hath her whh, thou haft thy IVill',
And Will too boote, and Will in ouer-plus,
More then enough am I that vcxe thee ftilJ,
To thy fwect will making addition thus.
Wilt thou whofe wiil is large and fpatious.
Not once vouchfaTe to hide my will in thine, '
Shall will in others feeme right gracious,
And in my will no ftire acceptance ftiine : ‘
The fea all water, yet receiues raine ftill,
And in aboundance addeth to his ftofe, ‘ '
So thou beeing rich in Will adde to thy Will, , ^ ’
One will of mine to make thy' large Will more,'
Let no vnkinde, no faire befeechers kill,
Thinke all but one, and me in that one Will, ‘
CXXXVI.
T F thy foule check thee that I come fo ncere,
Sweare to thy blind foule that I was thy Will,
And will thy foule knowes is. admitted there.
Thus farre for loue, my loue-fute fwect fullhlL
Shake-speares Sonnets^
Willy will fulfill the trcafu re of thy loue, ' "■
I fill it full with wils, and my will one, • • - I f ■
In things of great receit with eafe we prooue, ’ “iih- rj I
Among a number one is reckon’d none. j • - ’
Then in the number let me pafie vntold, » - m-':- f
Though in thy fiores account I one mufi: be, > >, t
For nothing hold me fo it pleafe thee hold, -
That nothing me, a fome-thing fvveet to thee. • ‘ ►
Make but my name thy loue, and loiie that fiill, • ' ■ i '
And then thou ioueft me for my name is Will.
CXXXVII.
H O U blinde foole loue, what doofl thou to mine eyes^ j*
That they behold and fee not what they fee V
They know what beautie is, fee where it lyes, * ‘ '
Yet what the befl is, take the worfl to be. 'j
If eyes corrupt by ouer-partiall lookes, jct .
Be anchord in the baye where all men ride, • i
Why of eyes falfehood haft thou forged hookes, ’ ^ •
Whereto the iudgement of my heart is tide ? ^ '''
Why fiiould my heart thinke that a feuerall plot.
Which my heart knowes the wide wdrlds common place ? ^ ’
Or mine eyes feeing this, fay this is not
To put faire truth vpon fo foule'a face, * " '
In things right true my heart and eyes haue erred, ‘
And to thisfalfe plague are they now transferred.
CXXXVIII.
Wr ^ ^ ^ fweares that fhe is made of truth,
^ ^ I do beleeue her though I know fhe lyes.
That file might thinke me fome vntuterd youth,
Vnlearned in the worlds falfe fubtilties.
li 2
Thus
Shake-speares Sonnets.
Thus vainely thinking that (he thinkes me young.
Although flie knowes my dayes are paft the beft,
Simply I credit her falfe fpeaking tongue,
On both fides thus is fimplc truth fupprcft :
But wherefore fayes (he not (he is vniuft ?
And wherefore fay not I that I am old ?
O loues bcft habit is in feeming truff,
And age in loue, loues not t’haue yeares told.
Therefore I lye with her, and (he with me.
And in our faults by lyes we flattered be.
CXXXIX.
Call not me to iuftifie the wrong,
That thy v n kind nelTe lay es vpon ray heart,
Wound me not with thine eye but with thy toung,
Vfe power with power, and flay me not by art,
Tell me thou lou’fl: elfe- where ; but in my fight,
Deare heart forbeare to glance thine eye afide.
What needft thou wound with cunning when thy mig
Is more then my ore-prefl defence can bide ?
Let me excufe thee, ah my loue well knowes.
Her prettie lookes haue beene mine enemies.
And therefore from my face (lie turnes my foes,
7'hat they elfe-where might dart their iniuries ;
Yet donotfo, but flnce I am neere flaine,
Kill me out-right with lookes, and rid my paine.
CXL.
E 'wife as thou art cruell, do not prefTe
My toung-tide patience with too much difdalne »
Lead forrow lend me Words and words exprelfc.
The manner of my pittie wanting paine.
Shaki-speares Sonnets.-
If I might teach thee wItte better it weare.
Though not to loue, yet loue to tell me fo.
As teiVie fick*men when their deaths be necre.
No newes but health from their phifitions know.
For if I fliouid difpaire 1 fhould grow madde,
And in my madnelTe might fpeake ill of thee,
Now this ill wrefting world is growne fo bad, '
Madde flanderers by madde eares beleeued be.
• TJiat I may not be fo, nor thou be lyde,
Beare thine eyes ftraight, though thy proud heart goe wide.
CXLI.
TN faith I doe not loue thee' with mine eyes.
For they in thee a thoufand errors note.
But ’tis my heart that loues what they difpife.
Who in difpight of view is pleafd to dote.
Nor are mine eares with thy toungs tune delighted.
Nor tender feeling to bafe touches prone.
Nor tafte, nor fmell, defire to be inuited
To any fenfuall feafl with thee alone :
But my fiue wits, nor my hue fences can
Difwade one foolifh heart from feruing thee,
Wholeaues vnfwai’d the likenefle of a man.
Thy proud hearts flaue and vaflTall wretch to be :
Ouely my plague thus farre I count my gaine.
That Ihe that makes me/inne, awards me paine.
CXLII.
T O U E is my finne, and thy deare vertue hate,
Hate of my finne, grounded on finfull louing,
O but with mine, compare thou thine owne ftate,
And thou flialt finde it merrits not reproouing,
3
Oi
Shake-speares Sonnets.
Or if it do, not from thofe lips of thine.
That haue prophan’d their fcarlet ornaments.
And feald falfe bonds of loue as oft as mine,
Robd others beds reuenues of their rents.
Be it lawfull I loue thee as thou lou’ft thofe.
Whome thine eyes wooe as mine importune thee,
Roote pittie in thy heart that when it grovves.
Thy pitty may deferue to pittied bee.
If thou dooft feeke to haue what thou dooft hide,
By felfe example mai’fl: thou be denide.
CXLIII.
LO E as a carefull hufwife runnes to catch,
One of her fethered creatures broake away.
Sets downe her babe and makes all fwift difpatch
In purfuit of the thing (he would haue flay:
Whilft her neglected child holds her in chace,
Cries to catch her whole bufie care is bent,
To follow that which flies before her face :
Not prizing her poore infants difeontent;
So runfl; thou after that which flies from thee,
Whilfl I thy babe chace thee a farre behind.
But if thou catch thy hope turne back to me :
And play the mothers part kilTe me, be kind.
So will I pray that thou maifl haue thy /fV//,
If thou turne back and my loude crying flill.
CXLIV.
O loues I haue of comfort and difpaire,
Which like two fpirits do fugiefl me ftill,
The better angell is a man right faire :
The worfer fpirit a woman collour’d il.
Shake-speares SonnetsJ^,
To win me foone to hell my femall euill,
Tempteth my better angel from my fight.
And would corrupt my faint to be a diuel:
Wooing his purity with her fowle pride.
And whether that my angel be turn’d finde,
Sufpe<fl: I may, yet not dire<n:ly tell.
But being both from me both to each friend,
I geffe one angel In an others hel. •
Yet this dial I nere know but Hue In' doubt.
Till my bad angel fire my good one out.
. CXLV.
HOSE lips that loues owne hand did make.
Breath’d forth the found that faid I hate.
To me that languiflit for her fake ;
But -when fhe faw my .wofull Bate,
Straight in her heart did merciecome, ' .
Chiding that tongue that euer fwqet.
Was vfde in giuing gentle dome :
And tought it thus a new to greete : ' / ..
I hate fhe alterd with an end, ^ ;
That follow’d it as gentle day, % ••
Doth follow night who like a fiend ;;
From heauen to hell is liowne away. ; ^ .
I hate, from hate away fhe threw, %
And fau’d my life faying not you. „ .
t
i K
1
CXLVI.
T) OORE foule the center of my finfull earth, ‘ ,
My finfull earth thefe rebbell powres that thee array,
Why dofl thou pine within and fuffer dearth
Painting thy outward walls fo cofllie gay ?
114
Why
ShAKE-SPE ARES SoNNETS.'
Why fo large colt haning fo fhort a Icafe,
D /t thou vpon thy fading manfion fpend ?
Shall wormes inheritors of this exceflTe,
Eate vp thy charge ? is this thy bodies end ?
Then foule Hue thou vpon thy feruants Ioffe,
And let that pine to aggrauat thy (lore ;
Buy tearmes diuine In felling houses of droffe :
Within be fed, without be rich no more,
So (halt thou'feed on death, that feeds on men.
And death oace dead, ther*s no more dying then.
CXLVII.
TVyTY loueis as afeauer longing ftill,
For that wliich longer nurfeth the difeafe.
Feeding on that which doth preferue the ill,
Th’vncertaine ficklie appetite to pleafe ;
My reafon the phifition to my loue,
Angry that his preferiptions are not kept
Hath left me, and I defperate now approoue,
Defire is death, which phifick did except.
Pa A cure I am, now reafon is part care.
And frantick madde with euerrmore vnreA,
My thoughts and my difeourfe as mad mens are,
At randon from the truth vainely expreft.
For I haue fworne thee faire, and thought thee bright.
Who art as black as helj, as darke as night.
CXLVIIL
Me I what eyes hath loue put in my head.
Which haue no correfpondence with true fight,
Or if they haue, where is my iudgment fled.
That cenfures falfely what they fee aright ?
Shake-speares Sonnets.
If that be faire whereon my falfe eyes dote.
What meancs the world to lay it is not fo ?
If it be not, then loue doth well denote,
Loues eye is not fo true as all mens ; no.
How can it ? O how can loues eye be truci
That is fo vext with watching and with teares ?
No maruaile then though I miftake my vievv%
The funne it felfe fees not, till heauen cleeres.
O cunning loue, with teares thou keepft me blinde,
Leall eyes well feeing thy foule faults fhould finde.
CXLIX.
^ A N S T thou O cruell, fay I loue thee not.
When I againft my felfe with thee per take :
Doe I not thinke on thee w^hen I forgot
Am of my felfe, all tirant for thy hike ?
Who hateth thee that I doe call my friend.
On whom froun’ll thou that I doe faune vpon.
Nay if thou lowrll on me doc I not fpend
Reuenge vpon my felfe with prefent mone ?
What merrit do I in my felfe refpedf,
That is fo proude thy feruice to difpife.
When all my bell doth worlhip thy defeat,
Commanded by the motion of thine eyes.
But loue hate on for now I know thy minde,
Thofe that can fee thou lou’R, and I am blind.
CL.
H from what powre half thou this powrefull might.
With infufficiency my heart to fway.
To make me giue the lie to my true fight.
And fwere that brightnelTe doth not grace the day ?
Whence
Shake-spearbs Sonnet^,
Whence haft thou this becomming of things il.
That in the very refufe of thy deeds,
There is fuch ftrength and warrantife of (kill,
That in my minde thy.worft all beft exceeds ?
Who taught thee how to make me loue thee more.
The more I heare and fee iuft caufe of hate.
Oh though I loue what others doe abhor.
With others thou (houldft not abhor my ftate.
If thy vnworthinefte raifd lone in me.
More worthy I to be belou’d of thee.
CLI.
LO U E is too young to know what confeience is.
Yet who knowes not confeience is borne of loue.
Then gentle cheater vrge not my amifle,
Leaft guilty of my faults thy fweet felfe prone.
For thou betraying me, I doe betray
My nobler part to my grofe bodies treafon.
My foule doth tell my body that he may,
Triumph in loue, * flefti ftaies no farther reafon.
But ryfing at thy name doth point out thee.
As his triumphant prize, proud of this pride.
He is contented thy poore drudge to be
To ftand in thy aftaires, fall by thy fide.
No want of confeience hold it that I call,
Her loue, for whofe deare loue I rife and fall.
CLIL • I
TN louing thee thou know’ft I am forfworne,
But thou art twice forfworne to me loue fwearing,
In a6l thy bed-vow broake and new faith tome,
In vowing new hate after new loue bearing.
Shake-speares Sonnets,
But why of two othes breach doe I acciife thee,
When I breake twenty :* I' am- perjur’d moll:
For all my vowes are othes but to mlfufe thee r
And all my honeft faith in thee is loft.
For I haue fworne deepe othes of thy deepe kindnefTe
Othes of thy loue, thy truth, thy conftancie.
And to inlighten thee gaue eyes to biindnelfe, . . ^ ’
Or made them fwere againft the thing they fee.
For I haue fworne thee faire : more perii;rde eye.
To fwere againft the truth fo fqule a lie.
- . i; rl
CLIIt.-
^ V P I D laid by his brand and fell a fleepe,
^ A maide of Dyans this aduantage found.
And his loue-kindling fire did quickly fteepe
In a could vallie-fountaine of that ground :
Which borrowd from this holie fire of loue,
A datelefie iiuely heat ftill to indure.
And grew a Teething bath which yet men prone,
Againft ftrang malladies a foueraigne cure :
But at my miftres eie loues brand new fired
The boy for triall needes would touch my breft,
I fick withall the helpe of bath defired.
And thether hied a fad diftemperd gueft.
But found no cure, the bath for my helpe lies.
Where got new fire ; my miftres eye.
CLIV.
'’I E little loue*god lying once a fleepe.
Laid by his fide his heart inflaming brand,
Whilft many nymphes that vou’d chaft life to keep.
Came tripping by, but in her maiden hand,
ShAKE-SPEa’rES SoNKET^r
The fayreft votary tooke up that fire.
Which many legions of true hearts had warm’d.
And fo the generall of hot defire.
Was fleeping by a virgin hand difarm’d.
This brand fhe quenched in a coole well by.
Which from loucs fire tooke heat perpetuall.
Growing a bath and healthfull remedy,
For men difeafd, but I my miftrifle thrall.
Came there for cure and this by that I proue,
Loues fire heates water, water cooles not loue.
FINIS.
A L d U E R S
A
LOUERS COMPLAIN T,
B Y
WILLIAM SHAKE-SPEARE.
FR O M ofFa hill whole concaue wombe reworded,
A plaiotfull ftory from a fiftring vale
My fpirrits t’attend this doble voyce accorded,
And downe I laid to lift the fad tun’d tale.
Ere long efpled a fickle maid full pale
Tearing of papers breaking rings a twaine.
Storming her world with forrowes, wind and ralne.
Vpon her head a plattid hiue of ftraw.
Which fortified her vifage from the funne.
Whereon the thought might thinke fometimeit faw.
The carkas of a beauty fpent and donne.
Time had not fithed all that youth begun.
Nor youth all quit, but fpight of heauens fell rage.
Some beauty peept, through lettice of fear’d age.
Oft did (he heaue her napkin to her eyne.
Which on it had conceited chareiflers :
Laundring the filken figures in the brine.
That feafoned woe had pelleted in teares.
And often reading what contents it beares :
As often fhriking vndiftinguilht wo,
In clamours of all fize both high and low.
Some- times
A LoUERS CoMPLAINt.'
Some-times her leueld eyes their carriage ride.
As they did battry to the fpheres Intend :
Somet'^ne diuei^ted iheir ppore balls^are tide.
To th’brbed eafth; folnetimcS Ihe/ do extend,"
Their view right on, anon their gafes lend.
To euery place at once and no where fixt,
The mind and fight diftradlecfly commxit.
Her hai^enor loofe gor ffd irt fdrMall plat/ "
Proclaimd in her a carelefTe hand of pride ;
For fome vntuck'd defeended her fheu’d hat,
Hanging her pale and pined chteke befide, -»
Some in her threeden iillet ftill did bide, ^ ^ * **
And trew to bondage Would not,breake from thencc>
Though flackly braided in loofe negligence. •
* 4; ^ f • ^ ^
A thoufand fauoursfrom a maund flle drew, ;
Of amber chrlAall and -of bedded .iet, _
Which one by one fhe in a riuer threw,
Vpon whofe weeping margent fhe Was’fet, ' * ,
Like vfery applying wet t6 wet, * ’
Or monarches hands that* lets hot bounty 'fall, ’ '• j
Where want cries fome ;• but where exceffe begs all. i
Of folded fchedulls had fhe. many a one, . "
Which fhe perus’d, fighd, tore arid gaue the flud, / ■
Crackt many a ring of pofied gold and bone.
Bidding them find their* fepulchers in mud, * ' '
Found yet mo letters fadly pend in blood,
With fleided hike, feate and affe<51:edly ‘ *' * -
Enfwath’d and fcald to crirrous fCcrecy* ‘ ' ' ' ■
Thefc
A-^Lovers Complaint*
Thefe oftea bath’d ftie In her fluxiue eies.
And often kift, and often gauo to teare, ,
Cried O falfe blood thou regifter. of lies, . :
What vnapproued witnes dooh: thou beare !
lake would haue feem’d more blacke and damned heare I
This faid in top of rage the lines fhe rents.
Big difcontent, fo breaking their contents. •
I
A reuerend man that graz’d his cattell ny.
Sometime a bluflerer that the ruffle knew
Of court of cittie, and had let go by
The fwiftefl houres obferued as they flew.
Towards this afllifted fancy faflly drew :
And priuiledg’d by age defires to know
In breefe the grounds and motiues of .her wo.
So Aides he downe vppon his greyned bat ;
And comely diflant fits he by her fide.
When hee agalne defires her, being fatte, .
Her greeuance with his hearing to deuide : '
If that from" him* there may be ought applied
' Which may her fuflering extafle aflwage . . • '
Tis promlfl: in the charitie of age.
Father fhe faies, though in mce you behold
The iniury of many a blafling houre ;
Let it not tell your iudgement I am old.
Not age, but forrow, ouer me hath power ;
I might as yet Haue bene a fpreading flower
Frefh to my felfe, if I had felfe applyed
Loue to my felfe, and to no. louebefide. • ■
A LoUERS CoMPLAIliT.’
But wo Is mee, too early I attended
A youthFull fuit it v;as to gainc my grace ;
O one by natures outwards fo commended.
That maidens eyes flucke ouer all his face,
Loue lackt a dwelling and made him her place.
And when in his faire parts fhee didde abide,
Shee was new lodg’d and newly deified.
His brown y locks did hang in crooked curies.
And eiiery light occafion of the wind
Vpon his lippes their filken parcels hurles,
Whats fweet to do, to do wil aptly find.
Each eye that faw him did inchaunt the minde :
For on his vifage was in little drawne,
What largenefie thinkes in parradife was fawnc,
Smal ftiew of man was yet vpon his chinne,
His phenix downe began but to appeare
Like vnfiiorne veluet, on that termlefie Ikin
Whofe bare out-brag’d the web it feem’d to were.
Yet (hewed his vifage by that coft more deare,
And nice affedljons wauering (\ood in doubt
If beft were as it was, or beft without.
His qualities were beautious as his forme.
For maiden tongu’d he was and thereof free ;
Yet if men mou’d him, was he fuch a ftorme
As oft twixt May and Aprill is to fee,
When windes breath fweet, vnruly though they bee.
His rudenclTe fo with his authoriz’d youth,
I>id liuery falfenelTc in a pride of truth.
Wcl '
A Loubrs Complaint.
Wei could hee ride, and often men would fay
That horfe his mettell from his rider takes
i’roud of fubie6lion, noble by the fwaie,
What rounds, what bounds, what courfe what flop he makes
And controuerfie hence a queftion takes
Whether the horfe by him became his deed.
Or he his mannad’g, b/th wel doing fteed.
But quickly on this fide the verdidl went,
His reall habitude gaiie life and grace
To appertainings and to ornament,
Accomplilht in him-felfe not in his cafe :
All ayds them-felues made fairer by their place,
Can for addicions, yet their purpos’d trimme
Peec’d not his grace but were al grac’d by him.
So on the tip of his fubduing tongue
All kinde of arguments and queftion deepe,
Al replication prompt, and reafon ftrong
For his aduantage ftill did wake and fleep, * -
To make the weeper laugh, the laugher weepe :
He had the diale<Sl: and different Ikil,
Catching al paffions in his craft of will.
That hee didde in the general bofome raigne
Of young, of old, and fexes both inchanted,
To dwel with him in thoughts, or to remaine
In perfonal duty, following where he haunted,
Confent’s bewitcht, ere he defire haue granted^
And dialogu’d for him what he would fay,
Alkt their own wils and made their wils obey.
VoL. IV.
Kk
Many
A 'Louers Complaikt.’
Many there were that did his picture gette
To ferue their eies, and in it put their mind.
Like fooles that in th’ imagination fet
The goodly obiecls which abroad they find
Of lands and manfions, theirs in thought afiign’d.
And labouring in moe pleafures to befiow them.
Then the true gouty landlord which doth owe them
So many haue that neuer toucht his hand
Sweetly fuppos’d them mifirefie of his heart :
My wofull felfe that did in freedome fiand,
And was my owne fee fimple (not in part)
What with his art in youth and youth in art
Threw my afftflions in his charmed power,
Referu’d the fialke and gaue him al my flower.
Yet did I not «as fome my equals did
Dcmaund of him, nor being defired yeelded,
Finding my felfe in honour fo forbidde,
With fafefl diflance I mine honour Iheelded,
Experience for me many bulwarkes builded.
Of proofs new bleeding which remaind the foile
X3f this falfe iewcll, and his amorous Ipoile.
But ah who eucr fhun’d by precedent.
The deflin’d ill Ihe mufl her felfe aflay,
Or forc’d examples gainfl her owne content
To put the by-pafl perrils in her way ?
Counfaile may flop a while what will not flay :
For when we rage, advife is often feene
Ey blunting vs to make our wits more keene.
A Loiters Complaint. *.
Nor glues it fiitisfa<5lion to our blood.
That wee mnft cnrbe it vppon others proofe ;
To be forbod the fweets that feemes fo good.
For feare of harmes that preach in our behoofe ;
O appetite from lodgement fland aloofe !
The one a pallate hath that needs will tafle,
Though reafon weepe and cry it is thy laft.
For further I could fay this mans vntrue.
And knew the patternes of his foule beguiling.
Heard where his plants in other orchards grew,
Saw how deceits were guilded in his fmiling.
Knew vowes, were euer brokers to defiling.
Thought charadfers and words meerly but art.
And baflards of his foule adulterat heart.
And long vpon thefe termes I held my citty.
Till thus hee gan befiege me : gentle maid
Haue of my fuffering youth fome feeling pitty
And be not of my holy vowes affraid,
Thats to ye fworne to none was euer faid.
For feafts of loue I haue bene call’d vnto
Till how did nere inuite nor neuer vow.
All my offences that abroad you fee
Are errors of the blood none of the mind :
Loue made them not, with a6f ure they may be.
Where neither party is nor trew nor kind.
They fought their fhame that fo their fhame did find.
And fo much lelfe of fhame in me remaines.
By how much of me their reproch contames*
A Louers Complaint.
Among the many that mine eyes haue feene,
Not one whofe flame my hart fo much as warmed.
Or my afledlion put to th, fmallcfl teene.
Or any of my leifures euer charmed,
Harme haue I done to them but nerewas harmed.
Kept hearts in liueries, but mine owne was free,
And raignd commaunding in his monarchy.
Lookc heare what tributes wounded fancies fent me.
Of palyd pearles and rubies red as blood :
Figuring that they their paflions likewife lent me
Of greefeand blufhes, aptly vnder flood
In bloodiefle white, and the encrimfon’d mood,
Eflefls of terror and deare mpdefly,
Encampt in hearts but fighting outwardly.
And lo behold thefe tallents of their heir.
With twifled mettle amoroufly empleacht
I haue receau’d from many a feueral faire.
Their kind acceptance, wepingly befeecht.
With th’annexioiis of faire gems inricht.
And deepe brain’d fonnets that did amplifie
Each ftones deare nature, worth and qualiity.
The Diamond ? why twas beautifull and hard.
Whereto his inuis’d properties did tend.
The deepe greene emrald in whofe frefti regard,
Weake fights their fickly radience do amend.
The heauen hewd faphir and the opall blend
With obiedls manyfold ; each feuerall ftone,
y/ith wit well blazond imird pr made fpme monc.
A Loiters CoMPLAiNTi
Lo aH thefe trophies of affe(51:ions hot.
Of penfiu’ci and fubdew’d defires the tender.
Nature hath chargd me that I hoord them not.
But yeeld them vp 'where I my felfe muft render ;
That is to you my origin and ender :
For thefe of force rnufl your oblations be.
Since I their aulter, you en patrone me.
Oh then aduance (of yours) that phrafeles hand,
Whofe white weighes downe the airy fcale of praife,
Take all thefe fimilies to your owns command.
Hollowed with fighes that burning lunges did raife ;
What me your minifter for you obaies
Workes vnder you, and to your audit comes
Their diflra<fl: parcells, in combined fummes.
Lo this deuice was fent me from a nun,
Or fifler fanffified of holieft note.
Which late her noble fuit in court did fhun,
Whofe rareft hauings made the bloIToms dote.
For ihe was fought by fpirits of ritchefl: cote.
But kept cold diftaace, and did thence remoue.
To fpend her lining in eternall loue.
But oh my fweet what labour if! to leaue,
The thing we haue not, maftring what not flriues.
Playing the place which did no forme recelue.
Playing patient fports in vneonftraind giues.
She that her fame fo to her fdfe contriues.
The fcarres of battaile fcapeth by the flight.
And makes her abfcnce valiant, not her might.
Kk 3
*A Louers Complaint.
Oh pardon me in that my boaft is true,
The accident which brought me to her eie,
Vpon the moment did her force fubdewe,
And now flie would the caged cloifter flic :
Religious loue put out religions eye :
Not to be tempted would flie be enur’d.
And now to tempt all liberty procure.
How mightie then you are, oh heare me tell,
The broken bofoms that to me belong,
Haue emptied all their fountaines in my well :
And mine I powre your ocean all amonge :
1 flrong ore them and you ore me being flrong,
Mufl: for your vi<n:orie vs all congefl.
As compound loue to phifick your oold brefl.
My parts had powre to charme a facred funne,
Who difeiplin’d I dieted in grace,
Beleeu’d her eies, when they t’aflaile begun.
All vowes and confecratlons giuing place :
O mod: potentiall loue, vowe, bond, nor fpace
In thee hath neither fling, knot, nor confine ,
For thou art all and all things els are thine.
When thou impreflefl what are precepts worth
Of flale example ? when thou wilt inflame.
How coldly thofe impediments fland forth
Of wealth of filliall feare, law^e, kindred fame,
Loues armes are peace, gainfl rule, gainfl fence, gainfl fhame
And fweetens in the fuffring pangues it beares,
The AUoes of all forces, fliockes and feares.
Now
t
A LoUERS COMt^LAINT.
'Now all thefe hearts that doe on mine depend.
Feeling it breake, with bleeding groanes they pine,
And fupplicant their fighes to you extend
To leaue thebattrie that you make gain!! mine.
Lending foft audience, to my fweet defigne.
And credent foule, to that ftrong bonded oth.
That fhall preferre and vndertake my troth*
This faid, his watric eies he did difmount,
Whofe hghtes till then were leaueld on my face,
Each cheeke a riuer running from a fount.
With brynifli currant dowe-ward flowed a pace ;
Oh how the channell to the flreame gaue grace !
Who glaz’d with chriflall gate the glowing rofes.
That flame through water which their hew inclofes.
Oh father, what a hell of witch-craft lies.
In the fmall orb of one perticular teare ?
But with the invndation of the eies :
What rocky heart to water will not weare ?
What brefl fo cold that is not warmed heare.
Or cleft efFe£l:, cold mo defly hot wrath :
Both fire from hence, and chill extin^lure hath.
For loe his pafTion but an art of craft,
Euen there refolu’d my reafon into teares.
There my white dole of chaftity I daft,
Shooke off my fober gardes, and ciuill feares,
Appeare to him as he to me appeares :
All melting, though our drops this diffrence bore,
His poifon’d me, and mine did him reflore.
A Louers Complaint*
In him a plentitude of fubtle matter,
Applied to cau tills, all ftraing formes receiues.
Of burning bluHies, or of weeping water.
Or founding palenefTe : and he takes and leaues.
In cithers aptnelTe as it beft deceiues :
To blulh at fpeeches ranck, to weepe at woes
Or to tnrne white and found at tragick (howes.
That not a heart which in hisleuell came.
Could fcape the haile of his all hurting ayme.
Shewing fair nature is both kinde and tame :
And vaild in them did winne whom he would maime,
Againft the thing he fought, he would exclaime.
When he moll burnt in hart-wilht luxurie.
He preacht pure m^ide, and praifd cold chaflitie.
Thus meerely with the garment of a grace.
The naked and concealed feind he couerd.
That th’ vnexperient gaue the tempter place.
Which like a cherubin aboue them houerd.
Who young and fimple would not be fo louerd.
Aye me I fell, and yet do queflion make,
What I fhould doe againe for fuch a fake.
O that infe^led moyflure of his eye,
0 that falfe fire which in his cheeke fo glowd :
O that forc’d thunder from his heart did flye
O that fad breath his fpungie lungs bellowed,
O all that borrowed motion feeming owed.
Would yet againe betray the fore-betrayed,
And new peruert a reconciled maide.
FINIS..
THE TRUE
CHRONICLE HISTORY
O F
KING L E I R,
AND
HIS THREE DAUGHTERS,
Gonorill, Ragan, and Cordella.
As it hath bene diuers and fundry times lately acled.
L 0 N D 0 N,
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THE TRUE
CHRONICLE HIST OKIE.
OF
KING L E I R
AND HIS
THREE DAUGHTERS.
A C T V S I.
Enter king Leir and nobles,
TH U S to onr griefe the obfequies performd
Of our (too late) deceafl and deareft queen,
Whofe foule I hope, poheff of heauely ioyes,
Doth ride in triumph ’mogfl: the cherubius j
Let vs requeft your graue aduice, my lords.
For the difpofing of our princely daughters.
For whom our care is fpccially imployd.
As nature bindeth to aduaunce their flares,
In royal! marriage with fome princely mates :
For wanting now their mothers good aduice,
Vnder whofe gouernment they haue receyued
A perfit patterne of a vertuous life :
Left as it were a fhip without a fferne.
Or filly fheepe without a pallors care;
Although our felues doe dearely tender them,
Yet are we ignorant of their affayres :
For fathers befl do know to gouerne Tonnes j
But
; The History of Kin®. Leir
But daughters fleps the mothers counfell turnes. '
A fonne we want for to fucceed our crowne.
And courfe of.time hath cancelled the date
Of further inhe from our withered loynes :
One foote already hangeth in the graue.
And age hath made deepe furrowes in my face:
The world of me, I of the world am weary,
And I would fayne refigne thefe earthly cares,
And thinke vpon the welfare of my foule :
Which by no better meancs may be efFecfled,,
Then by refigning vp the crowne from me.
In equall dowry to my daughters three.
^ Skalliger. A worthy care, my liege, which well declares.
The zeale you bare vnto our quondam queene :
And fince your grace hath licens’d me to fpeake,
I cenfure thus ; your maiefty knowing well.
What feuerall futers your princely daughters haue,
To make them eche a ioynter more or lefTe,
As is their worth, to them that loue profetTe.
Leir. No more, nor lelle, but euen all alike.
My zeale Is fixt, all falhiond in one mould :
Wherefore vnpartiall (hall my ccnfure be.
Both old and young (liall haue alike for me,
Nobl. My gracious lord, I hartily do wilh.
That God had lent you anheyre indubitate,
Which might haue fet vpon your royall throne.
When fates fhould loofe the prifon of your life.
By whofe fucceflion all this doubt might ceafe ;
And as by you, by him we might haue peace.
But after-wilhes euer come too late,
And nothing can reuoke the courfe of fate :
Wherefore, my liege, my cenfure deemes it beff,
To match them with fome of your neighbour kings,
Eordring within the bounds of AMon,
AND HIS THREE DAUGHTERS.
By whofe vnited friendfhip, this our flate
May be prote<5led "gainft all forrayne hate.
Leir. Herein, my lords, your widies fort with mine,
And mine (I hope) do fort with heauenly powers ;
For at this inftant two neere neyghbouring kings.
Of Corn'wall and of Cambria, motion loue
To my two daughters, Gonorill Ragan,
My youngefl daughter, fayre Cordelia, vowes
No liking to a monarch, vnlefTe loue allowes.
She is follicited by diuers peeres ;
But none of them her partiall fancy heares. '
Yet, if my policy may her beguyle.
He match her to fome king within this ile.
And fo eftabllfh fuch a perfit peace.
As fortunes force (hall ne’re preuayle to ceafe.
Perillus. Of vs and ours, your gracious care, my lord
Defer ues an eueriafling memory.
To be inroi’d in chronicles of fame.
By neuer-dying perpetuity :
Yet to become fo prouident a prince,
Lofe not the title of a louing father :
Do not force loue, where fancy cannot dwell,
Left ftreames being ftopt, aboue the banks do fwell.
Leir. I am refolu’d, and euen now my mind
Doth meditate a fndden ftratagem.
To try which of my daughters loues me beft :
Which till I know, I cannot be in reft. .
This graunted, when they ioyntiy ftiall contend,
Eche to exceed the other in their loue :
Then at the vantage will I take Cordelia,
Euen as fhe doth proteft ftie loues me beft,
lie fay, then, daughter, graunt me one requeft,
T o fhew thou loueft me as thy fifters doe.
Accept a huiband, whom my felfe will woo.
The History of King Leir •
This fayd, flic cannot well deny my futc,
Although (poore foule) her fences will be mute :
Then will I try urn ph in my policy.
And match her with a king of Brittany.
Skal. He to them before, and bewray your fecrecy.
Per. Thus fathers think their children to beguile.
And oftentimes themfelucs do firlf repent,
When heauenly powers do fruftrate their intent.
Exeunt.
• Enter Conor ill and Ragan.
Con. I maruell, Ragayi, how you can indure
To fee that proud pert peat, ouryoungeft filler,
So flightly to account of vs, her elders.
As if we were no better then her felfe !
We cannot haue a quaynt deuice fo foone.
Or new made fafhion, of our choyce inuention ;
But if fhe like it, fhe will haue the fame.
Or ftudy newer to exceed vs both.
Befides, fhe is fo nice and fo demure ;
So fober, courteous, modefl, and precife.
That all the court hath work ynough to do.
To talke how fhe exceedeth me and you.
Ra. What fhould I do > would it were in my power.
To find a cure for this contagious ill :
Some defperate medicine mufl be foone applyed.
To dimme the glory'of her mounting fame ;
Els ere’t b”e long, fheele haue both prick and praife.
And we mufl be fet by for working dayes.
Doe you not fee what feuerall choyce of futers •
She daily hath, and of the befl degree \
Say, amongfl all, fhe hap to fancy one,
And haue a hufband when as, we haue none ; •'
Why
ANP HIS THREE DAUGHTERS. '
Why then, by right, to her we muft giue place,
Though it be ne’re fo much to our difgrace.
Gon. By my virginity, rather then fhe fliall hauc
A hufband before me.
He marry one or other in his (hirt ;
And yet I haue made halfe a graunt already
Of my good will vnto the king of Cornwall,
Ra. Sweare not fo deeply (filler) here cometh my L.
Skalliger. ^ ,
Something his hafly comming doth import.
' Enter Skal.
Skal, Sweet prlncefTes, I am glad I met you heere fo luckily,
Hauing good newes which doth concerne you both.
And craueth fpeedy expedition.
Ra. For Gods fake tell vs what it is, my lord,
I am with child vntill you vtter it.
Skal. Madam, to faue your longing, this it is %
Your father in great fecrecy to day.
Told me, he meanes to marry you out of hand,
Vnto the noble prince of Cambria ;
You, madam, to the king of Cornwalls grace ;
Your yonger filler he would fayne bellow ,
Vpon the rich king of Hibernia :
But that he doubts, Ihe hardly will confent ;
For hitherto Ihe ne’re could fancy him.
If ihe do yeeld, why then, betweene you three.
He will deuide his kingdome for your dowries.
But yet there is a further myflery.
Which, fo you will conceale, I will difclofe.
Gon. What e’re thou fpeakll to vs, kind Skalliger^
Thiake that thou fpeakft it only to thy felfe,
Skal,
The History of King Lbir
SkaL He earneftly dcfireth for to know,
Which of you three do beare moft loue to him.
And on your loues he fo extremely dotes.
As neuer any did, I thinke, before.
He prefently doth meane to fend for you.
To be refolu’d of this tormenting doubt :
And looke, whofe anfwere pleafeth him the befl:.
They fhall haue moft vnto their marriages.
Ra» O that I had fome plcafing mermayds voyce.
For to Inchaunt his fencelefle fences with I
SkaL For he fuppofeth that Cordelia will
(Striuing to go beyond you in her loue)
Promife to do what euer he defires :
Then will he ftraight enioyne her for his fake.
The Hibernian king id marriage for to take.
This is the fumme of all I haue to fay ;
Which being done, I humbly take my leaue.
Not doubting but your wifdomes will forefee.
What courfe will beft vnto your good agree.
Con. Thanks, gentle Skalliger, thy kindnes vndeferiied.
Shall not be vnrequited, if we line.
Exit Skalliger,
Ra. Now haue we fit occafion offred vs.
To be reueng’d vpon her vnperceyu’d.
Con. Nay, our reuenge we will infliff on her,
Shall be accounted piety in vs : .
I will fo flatter with my doting father.
As he was ne’re fo flattred in his life.
Nay, I will fay, that if it be his pleafure,
To match me to a begger, I will yeeld :
For why, I know what euer I do fay,
He meanes to match me'v/ith the Corfiwall kiqg.
Ra. lie fay the like : for I am well aflured,
What e’re I fay to pleafe the old mans mind,
Who
‘ AND HIS THREE DAUGHTERS.
Who dotes, as if he were a child agayne,
I (hall inioy the noble Cambrian prince :
Only, to feed his humour, will fuffice, '
To fay, I am content with any one
Whom heele appoynt me ; this will pleafe him more.
Then e’re Jpolloes mufike plcafed louCy
Gon. I fmile to think, in what a wofull plight
Cordelia will be, when we anfwere thus :
For Ihe will rather dye, then giue confent
To ioyne in marriage with the Irifh king:
So will our father think, flie loueth him not,
Becaufe flie will not graunt to his defire.
Which we will aggrauate in fuch bitter termes,
That he will foone conuert his loue to hate :
For he, you know, is alwayes in extremes.
Rag. Not all the world could lay a better plot,
I long till it be put in practice. Exeunt,
Enter Leir and Perillus.
Leir. Perillus y go feeke my daughters.
Will them immediately come and fpeak with me.
Per. I will, my gracious lord. Exit,
Leir, Oh, What a combat feeles my panting heart, .
Twixt childrens loue, and care of common weale!
How deare my daughters are vnto my foule,
None knowes, but he, that knowes my thoghts and fecret
deeds.
/
Ah, little do they know the deare regard.
Wherein I hold their future flate to come :
When they fecurely fleepe on beds of downe,
Thefe aged eyes do watch for their behalfe :
While they like wantons fport in ^^outhfull toyes, i
This throbbing heart is peard: with dire annoyes, "
As doth the fun exceed the fmalleft ftarre,
So much the faijhers loue exceeds the childs.
VoL. IV. ' L 1 Y-t
The History of King Leir
Yet complaynts are cauflefTe: for the world
Affords not children more conformable :
And yet, me thinks, my mind prefageth flill
I know not what; and yet I feare fome ill.
Enter Periilus, with the three daughters.
Well, here my daughters come : I haue found out
A prefent meanes to rid me of this doubt.
Gon. Our royall lord and father, in all duty,
We come to know the tcnour of your will,
Why you fo haflily haue fent for vs.
Leir. Deare Gonorill, kind Ragan, fweet Cordelia,
Ye florifhing branches of a kingly flocke.
Sprung from a tree that once didflourifh greene,
Whofe bloffomes now are nipt with winters froft.
And pale grym death doth wayt vpon my fleps,
And fummons me vnto his next affizes.
Therefore, deare daughters, as ye tender the fafety
Of him that-was the caufe of your firfl being,
Refolue a doubt which much molefts my mind,
Which of you three to me would proue mofl kind ;
Which loues me mofl, and which at my requefl:
Will fooneR yeeld vnto their fathers heft.
Gon, I hope, my gracious father makes no doubt
Of any of his daughters loue to him :
Yet for my part, to fhew my zeale to you.
Which cannot be in windy words rehearft,
I prize my loue to you at fuch a rate,
I thinke my life inferiour to my loue.
Should you inioyne me for to tye a milftone
About^y neck, and leape into the fea,
At your commaund I willingly would doe it :
Yea, for to doe you good, I would afeend
AND HIS'^ THREE DAUGHTERS.'
The higheft turret in all Brittany,
And from the top leape headlong to the ground
Nay, more, fhould you appoynt me for to marry
The meaneft valTaylein the fpaclous world.
Without reply I would accompUfh it :
In briefe, commaund what euer you defire.
And if Ifayle, no fauour I require.
Leir, O, how thy words reuiue my dying foule
Cor. O, how I doe abhorre this flattery !
Leir. But what fayth Ragan to her fathers will
Rag. O, that my Ample vtterance could fufflce.
To tell the true intention of my heart.
Which burnes in zeale of duty to your grace,
And neuer can be quench’d, but by defire
To file w the fame in outward forward nefle.
Oh, that there were fome other mayd that durfl;
But make a challenge of her loue with me ;
Ide make her foone confefle flie neuer loued
Her father halfe fo well as I doe you.
I then, my deeds lliould prouc in pla5mer cafe.
How much my zeale aboundeth to your grace :
But for them all, let this one meane fuflice.
To ratify my loue before your eyes:
I haue right noble futers to my loue,
No worfe then kings, and happely I loue one :
Yet, would you haue me make my choyce anew,
Ide bridle fancy, and be rulde by you.
Leir. Did neuer Philomel Ang fo fweet a note.
Cord. Did neuer flatterer tell fo falfe a tale.
Leir. Speak now, Cordelia, make my ioyes at
And drop downe nedlar from thy hony lips.
Cor. I cannot paynt my duty forth in words,
I hope my deeds fhall make report for me :
Li 2
The History of King Lfir
But looke what lone the child doth owe the father.
The fame to you I beare, my gracious lord.
Gon. Hcte is an anfwere anfwerlefTe indeed :
Were you my daughter, I fhould fcarcely brooke it.
Rag. Doff thou not blufh, proud peacock as thou art,
To make our father fuch a flight reply?
Ldr. Why how, now, minion, are you growne fo proud ?
Doth our deare loue make you thus peremptory ?
What, is your loue become fo fmall to vs,
As that you fcorne to tell vs what it is ?
Do you loue vs, as euery child doth loue
Their father ? True indeed, as fome.
Who by difobedience fliort their fathers dayes,
And fo would you ; fome are fo father- flick.
That they make meanes.to rid them from the world;
And fo would you : fome. are indifferent.
Whether their aged parents liue or dye ;
And fo are* you. But, didft thou know, proud gyrlc, *
What care I had to fofter thee to this,
Ah, then thou wouldfl fay as thy Afters do :
Our life is leiTe, then loue we owe to you.
Cord. Deare father, do not fo miftake my words,
Nor my playne meaning be mifconftrued ;
My toung was neuer vfde to flattery.
Gon* You were not beft fay I flatter : if you do.
My deeds (hall fhew, 1 flatter not with you.
I loue my father better then thou canft.
Cor. The prayfe were great, fpoke from anothers mouth :
But it fhould feeme your neighbours dwell far off.
Nay, here is one, that will confirme as much
As fhe hath fayd, both for my felfe and her..
I fliy, thou doft not wifh my fathers good.
Cord. Deare father.
AND HIS THREE DAUGHTERS.
Leir, Peace, baftard impe, no Iffue of king
I will not heare thee fpeake one tittle more.
Call not me father, if thou loue thy life.
Nor thefe thy fillers once prefume to name :
Looke for no helpe henceforth from me or mine ;
Shift as thou wilt, and trufl vnto thy felfe :
My kingdome will I equally deuide
*Twixt thy two fiflers to their royall dowre, '
And will beftow them worthy their deferts :
This done, becaufe thou fhalt not haue the hope,
To haue a childs part in the time to come,
I prefently will difpofTefTe my felfe,
And fet vp thefe vpon my princely throne.
Con. I euer thought that pride would haue a fall.
Ra. Plaine dealing, fifler : your beauty is fo Iheene,
You need no dowry, to make you be a queene.
Exeunt Leir, Gonorill, Ragan.
Cord, Now whither, poore forfaken, lhall I goe.
When mine owne fillers tryumph in my woe ?
But vnto him which doth protedl the iuft.
In him will poore Cordelia put her trull.
Thefe hands fliall labour, for to get my fpending;
And fo He hue vntill my dayes haue ending.
Per. Oh, how I grieue, to fee my lord thus fond,
To dote fo much vpon vayne flattering words.
Ah, if he but with goodaduice had weyghed.
The hidden tenure of her humble fpeech,
Reafon to rage Ihould not haue giuen place.
Nor poore Cordelia fulfer fuch difgrace. Exit,
Enter the Gallian king 'with Mumford, and three nobles more.
King, Diflwade me not, my lords, I am refolu’d.
This next fayre wynd to fayle for Brittany ^
LI 3
In
TVie History of King Leir
In Tome difguife, to fee if flying fame
Be not too prodigall in the wondrous prayfe
OF thefe three nymphes, the daughters of king Leir,,
If prefent view do anfwere abfent prayfe,
And eyes allow of what our eares haue heard,
And Venus fland aufpicious to my vowes.
And fortune fauour what I take in hand j
I will returne feyz’d of as rich a prize
As lafon, when he wanne the golden fleece.
I\him. Heauens graut you may ; the match were ful of
honor,
And well befeeming the young Gallian king.
I would your grace would fauour me fo much.
As make me partner of your pilgrimage.
I long to fee the gallant Brittijh dames,
And fked mine eyes vpon their rare perfc<5lIons :
For till I know the contrary, He fay.
Our dames in Fraunce arc far more fayre then they^
Kin, Lord Mumford, you hauefaued me a labour.
In offring that which I did meane to afke :
And I mofl: willingly accept your oompany.
Yet firfl: I will inioyne you to obferue
Some few conditions which I fliall propofe.
Mum, So that you do not tye mine eyes for looking
After the amorous glauncesof fayre dames:
So that you do not tye my toung from fpeaking.
My lips from kifTing when occafion femes.
My hands from congees, and my knees to bow
To gallant gyries ; which were a tafke more hard,
Then flefh and bloud is able to indure :
Commaund what elfe you pleafe, I refl content.
Kin. To bind thee from a thing thou canfl: not leauc,
Were but a meahe to make thee feeke it more:
And therefore fpeake, looke,^ kifle, falute for me j
In
AND HIS THREE DAUGHTERS.
In thefe my felfe am like to fecond thee.
Now heare thy talke. I charge thee from the tline
That firfl we fet fayle for the Brittijh Ihore,
To vfe no words of dignity to me.
But in the friendliefl: manner that thou canH,
Make vTe of me as thy companion :
For we will go difguifde in palmers weeds.
That no man fliall miflrufl- vs what we are.
Mum. If that be all, He fit your turne I warrant you. I
am fome kin to the BlimtSy and I think, the blunteft of all my
kindred; therefore if I bee too blunt with you, thanke your
felfe for praying me to be fo.
King. Thy pleafant company will make the way feeme fhort.
It refleth now, that in my abfence hence,
J do commit the gouernment to you
My trufty lords and faythfull counfellers.
Time cutteth off the reft I haue to fay :
The wynd blowes fayre, and I mu ft needs away.
Nobles. Heauens fend your voyage to as good effeiff,
As we your land do purpofe to protect. - Exeunt, *
Enter the king of Cornwall and his man booted andfputil, a
riding 'ueand, and a letter in his hand.
Corn. But how far diftantare we from the court ?
Ser. Some twenty miles, my lord, or thereabouts. '
Corny It feemeth to me twenty thoufand myies :
Yet hope I to be there within this houre. "To hhnfelfe.
Ser. Then are you like to ride alone for rac.
I thinke my lord is weary of his life.
Corn. Sweet Goncrilly I long to fee thy face,
Ayhich haft fo kindly gratified my loue.
L 1 4 Enter
\
The History of King Leir
Enter the king of Cambria booted and fpiirdt hh nian 'with
a 'wand and a letter.
Cam. Get a fiefh horfe : for by my foule I fweare,
He lookes on the letter ^
I am pad patience, longer to forbeare
The wifhed fight of my beloued mifiris,
Deare RagaUy day and comfort of my life.
Ser. Now what in Gods name doth my lord intend ?
» To himfclfe.
He thinks he ne’re fliall come at’s iourneyes end.
I would he had old Dedahis waxen wings,
That he might fl3^e, fo I might day behind :
For e’re we get to Treynouant, I fee.
He quite will tyre himfelfe, his horfe and me.
Cornwall and Cambria looke one vpon another^ and ftart to
fee eche other there.. ^
Corn. Brother of Cambria, we greet you well.
As one whom here we little did expect.
Cam. Brother of Corn'wall, met in happy time :
I thought as much to haue met with the fouldan of Perfia,
As to haue met you in this place, my lord.
No doubt, it is about fome great affayres,
That makes you here fo flenderly accompanied.
Corn. To fay the truth, my lord, it is no lelfe.
And for your part fome hady wind of chance
Hath blowne you hither thus vpon the fudden.
Cam. My lordi to break off further circumdances.
For at this time I cannot brooke delayes :
I’le]! you your reafpn, I will tell you mine.
Co/n.
/
AND HIS THREE DAUGHTERS.
Corn. In fayth content, and therefore to be briefe ;
For I am fure my hafte’s as great as yours :
I am fent for, to come vnto king Leir,
Who by thefe prefent letters promifeth , -
His elded: daughter, louely Gonorilly
To me in mariage, and for prefent dowry.
The moity of halfe his regiment.
The ladies loue I long ago polled :
But vntill now I neuer had the fathers.
Cam. You tell me wonders, yet I will relate
Strange newes, and henceforth we mud brothers call ;
Witnefle thefe lynes : his honourable age.
Being weary of the troubles of his crowne.
His princely daughter Ragan will bedow
On mein mariage, with halfe his feigniories.
Whom I would gladly haue accepted of,
With the third part, her complements are fuch.
Corn. If I haue one halfe, and you haue the other.
Then betweene vs we mud needs haue the whole.
Cam. The hole ! how meane you that ? zlood, I hope.
We lhall haue two holes betweene vs.
Corn. Why, the whole kingdome.
Cam. I, that’s very true.
Cor. What then is left for his third daughters dowry,
Louely Cordelia, whom the world admires ?
Cam. Tis very drange, I know not what to thinke,
VnlelTe they meane to make a nunne of her.
Corn. ’Twere pity fuch rare beauty Ihould be hid
Within the compalTe of a cloyders wall :
But howfoe’re, if Leirs words proue true.
It will be good, my lord, for me and you.
Cam. Then let vs hade, all danger to preuent.
For fcare delayes doe alter his intent. Exeunt,
, Enter
The History of King Leir .
Enter Gonorill and Ragan.
Gon. Sifter, when did you fee Cordelia laft,
That pretty piece, that thinks none good ynough
To fpeake to her, becaufe (fir-reuerence)
She hath a little beauty extraordinary ?
Ra. Since time my father warnd her from his prefence,
I neuer faw her, that I can remember.
God giue her ioy of her furpafting beauty ;
I thinke, her dowry will be fmall ynough.
Gon. I haue incenft my father fo againft her.
As he will neuer be reclaymd agayne.
Rag. I was not much behind to do the like.
Gon. Faith, fifter, what moues you to beare her fuch good
will ?
Rag, In truth, I thinke, the fame that moueth you ;
Becaufe (he doth furpaffe vs' both in beauty.
Beftirew your fingers, how right you can gefte:
I tell you true, it cuts me to the heart.
Rag. But we will keepe her low enough, I warrant.
And clip her wings for mounting vp too hye.
Con. Who euer hath her, fliall haue a rich mariage of her.
Rag. She were right fit to make a parfons wife :
For they, men fay, do loue faire women well.
And many times doe marry them with nothing.
Gon. With nothing ! marry God forbid : why, arc there
any fuch.
Rag. I meane, no money.
Gon. I cry you mercy, I miftooke you much :
And (he is far too ftately for the church ;
Sheelelay her hulbands benefice on her back,
Euen in one gowjie, if ftie may haue her will.
'Ra, In faith, poore foule, I pitty her a little,
ihe were lelTe fayre, or more fortunate.
Well
AND HIS THREE DAUGHTERS,
Well, I thinke long vntiil I fee my Morgan^
The gallant prince of Cambridy here arriue.
Gon» And fo do I, vntlll the Corrvwall king
Prefent himfelfe, to confummate my ioyes.
Peace, here, commeth my father.
Enter Leir, Perillus and others,
Leir. Ceafe, good my lords, and fue not to reuerfe
Our cenfure, which is now irreuocable.
We haue difpatched letters of contra<T
Vnto the kings of Cambria and of Cornwall y
Our hand and feale will iuftify no leUe :
Then do not fo difhonour me, my lords, *
As to make fhipwrack of our kingly word.
I am as kind as Is the pellican.
That kils it felfe, to faue her young ones Hues :
And yet as ielous as the princely eagle.
That kils her young ones, if they do but dazell
Vpon the radiant fplendor of the funne. '
Within this two dayes 1 expedt their coming.
Enter kings of Cornwall and Cambria.
But in good time, they are arriu’d already.
This hafte of yours, my lords, doth tehify
The feruent loue you beare vnto my daughters :
And think your felues as welcome to king Leir,
As euer Pryams children were to him.
^ Corn, My gracious lord, and father too, 1 hope,
Pardon, for that I made no greater hafte :
But were my horfe as fwift as was my will,
I long ere this had feene your maiefty. '
Cam. No other fcufe of abfence can I frame,
The History of King Leir'
Then what my brother hath inform’d your grace :
For our vndeferued welcome, we do vowe,
Perpetually to reft at your commaund.
Corn. But you, fweet loue, illuftrious Gonorilly
The regent, and the foue'raigne of my foule.
Is Cornvjall welcome to your excellency ?
Con. As welcome, as Leander was to Hero,
Or braiie Aeneas to the Carthage queene :
So and more welcome is your grace ro me.
Cam. O, may my fortune proue no worfe then his.
Since heauens do know, my fancy is as much.
Dearc Ragan^ fa}^ if welcome vnto thee.
All welcomes elfe will little comfort me.
Rag. As gold is welcome to the couetous eye.
As fleepe is welcome to the traueller.
As is frefh water to fea-beaten men.
Or moyftncd fhowres vnto the parched ground.
Or any thing more welcoraer then this.
So and more welcome lonely Morgan is. i
Leir. What refteth then, but that we confummate.
The celebration of thefe nuptiall rites ?
My kingdome I do equally deuide.
Princes, draw lots, and take your chaunce as falles.
Then they draw: lots.
Thefe I refigne as freely vnto you.
As ear ft by true fucceflion they were mine.
And here I do freely dirpoftefie my felfe.
And make you two my true adopted heyres :
My felfe will foiorne with my fonne of CornreaU,
And take me to my prayers and my beades.
I know, my daughter Ragan will beforry,
Becaufe I do not fpend my dayes with her :
Would I were able to be with both at once ;
They are the kindeft gyrles in Chrijiendomc.
Per
AND HIS THREE DAUGHTERS.
Per. I haue bin filent all this while, my lord.
To fee if any worthyer then my felfe.
Would once haue fpoke in 'poort Cordcllaes caufe :
But loue or feare tyes filence to their toungs.
Oh, heare me fpeake for her, my gracious lord,
Whofe deeds haue not deferu’d this ruthleffe doome.
As thus to difinherit her of all.
Leir. Vrge this no more, and if thou loue thy life :
I fay, (lie is no daughter, that doth fcorne
To tell her father how (he loueth him.
Who euer fpeaketh hereof to mee agayne,
I will efleeme him for my mortall foe.
Come, let vs in, to celebrate with ioy,
The happy nuptlalls of thefe louely payres.
Exeunt omncs, manet Perlllus.
Per. Ah, who fo blind, as they that wdll not fee
The neere approch of their owne mifery ?
Poore lady, I extremely pitty her :
And whileft I Hue, eche drop of my heart blood,
Will I flrayne forth, to do her any good. Exit.
Enter the Gallian king^ and Mumford, difguifed like pilgrims.
Mum. My lord, how do you bi*ook this Brittijh ayre I
King. My lord ? I told you of this foolilh humour.
And bound you to the contrary, you know.
Mum. Pardon me for once, my lord ; I did forget.
King. My lord agayne ? then let’s haue nothing elfe.
And fo be tane for fpyes, and then tis well.
Mum. Swounds, I could bite my toung in two for anger :
For Gods fake name yourfelfe fome proper name.
King. Call me TrefiUus : He call thee Denapoll.
Mum. Might I be made the monarch of the world,
I could not hit vpon thefe names, I fweare.
The History of King Leir
King. Then call me IVill^ He call thee lacke.
Alum. Well, be it fo, for I haue well deferu’d to be oil’d
lack.
King. Stand clofe ; for here a Brittijh lady coiheth :
Enter Cordelia.
A fayrer creature neVe mine eyes beheld.
Cord. This is a day of ioy vnto my fiflers,
Wherein they both are maiied vnto kings ;
And I, by byrth, as worthy as themfelues.
Am turnd into the world, to feeke my fortune.
How may I blame the fickle queene of chaunce.
That maketh me a patterneof her power ?
Ah, poore weake mayd, whofe imbecility
Is far vnable’to indure thefe brunts.
Oh, father Leir, how doH thou wrong thy child.
Who alwayes was obedient to thy will !
But why accufe I fortune and my father ?
No, no, it is the pleafure of my God :
And I do willingly imbrace the rod.
_ King. It is no goddeffe ; for (he doth comp] ay ne
On fortune, and th’vnkindnelTe of her father.
Cord. Thefe coHly robes ill fitting my eftatc,
I will eKchange for other meaner habit. •
Mum. Now if I had a kingdome iu my hands,
I would exchange it for a milkmaids fmock and petycoate.
That (he and I might flaift our clothes together.
Cord. I will betake me to my threed and needle.
And earne my liuing with my fingers ends.
Mum. O braue ! God willing, thou flialt haue mycuHome.
By fweet S. Denis, here I fadly fweare,
For all the fhirts and night-geare that I weare.
Cord, I will profefle and vow a maydens life.
Mu7n, The I protefl thou flialt not haue mycuflora.
King.
AND HIS THREE DAUGHTERS.
King. I can forbeare no longer for to fpeak :
For if I do, I think my heart will breake.
Minn Sblood, IVil, I hope you are not In lone with
fepfler.
King. I am in fuch a laborinth of loue.
As that I know not which way to get out.
Minn. You’l ne’re get out, vnlelTe you firll get In.
King. I prithy lacke, crofle not my paffions.
Mum. Prithy P/il, to her, and try her patience.
King. Thou faireft creature, whatfoere thou art,
That euer any mortal 1 eyes heheld,
Vouchfafe to me, who haue o’reheard thy woes.
To (hew the caufe of thefe thy fid laments.
Cor. Ah pilgrims, what auailes to Ihew the caufe.
When there’s no meanes to find a remedy ?
^King. To vtter griefe, doth eafe a heart o’recharg’d.
Cor. To touch a fore, doth aggrauate the payne.
King. The filly moufe, by vertue of her teeth.
Releas’d the princely lyon from the net.
Cor. Kind palmer, which fo much defir’fl to hearc
The tragick tale of my vnhappy youth :
Know this in briefe, I am the hapleffe daughter
Of Leir^ fometimes king of Brittany. >
King. Why, who debarres his honourable age.
From being ftill the king of Brittany ?
Cor. None, but himfelfc hath dirpofTeft hlmfelfe.
And giuen all his kingdome to the kings
Of Corn-wall and of Camlriay with my fifters.
King, Hath he giuen nothing to your louely felfe ?
Cor. He'lou’d me not, and therfore gaue me nothing,
Only becanfe I could not flatter him ;
And in this day of tryumph to my fillers.
Doth fortune tryumph in my ouerthrow.
Sweet lady, fay there faould come a king,
The History of King Lei'r
As good as eyther of you fifters hufbands,
To crane your loue, would you accept of him ?
Cor. Oh, doe not mocke with thofe in mifery,
Nor do not think, though fortune hauc the power,
To fpoyle mine honour, and debafe my flate.
That file hath any interefl in my mind :
For if the greateft monarch on the earth.
Should fue to me in this extremity,
Except my heart could loue, and heart could like.
Better then any that I euer faw.
His great eflate no more fliould moue my mind.
Then mountaynes moue by blafl of euery wind.
King. Think not, fweet nymph, tis holy palmers guife.
To grieued foules frefh torments to deuife :
Therefore in witneffe of my true intent.
Let heauen and earth beare record of my words :
There is a young and lufly Gallian king,
So like to me, as I am to myfelfe.
That earneffcly doth craue to haue thy loue, '
And ioyne with thee in Hymens facred bonds.
Cor. The like to thee did ne’re thefe eyes behold ;
Oh line to adde new torments to my griefe :
Why didfl thou thus intrap me unawares ?
Ah palmer, my eflate doth not befit
A kingly mariage, as the cafe now Hands.
Whilome when as I lin’d in honours height,
A prince perhaps might poflulate my loue :
Now mifery, di'fhonour and difgrace.
Hath light on me, and quite reuerfl the cafe.
Thy king will hold thee wife, if thou furceafe
The fute, whereas no dowry will infue.
Then be aduifed, palmer, what to do :
Ceafe for thy king, feeke for thy felfe to woo.
King. Your birth’s too high for any, but a king.
AND HIS THREE DAUGHTERS.'
Cor. My mind is low ynough to loue a palmer,
Rather then any king vpon the earth.
King. O, but you neuercan indure their life,
Which is fo ftraight and full of penury.
Cor. O yes, I can, and happy if I might :
He hold thy palmers ftaffe within my hand.
And thinke it is the fcepter of a queene.
Sometime He fet thy bonnet on my head.
And thinke I weare a rich imperiall crowiie.
Sometime He helpe thee in thy holy prayers.
And thinke I am with thee in paradife.
Thus He mock fortune, as llie mocketh me.
And neuer will my louely choyce repent : ,
Forhauing thee, I fliall haue all content.
King. 'Twere fin to hold her longer in fufpence.
Since that my foule hath vow’d Ihe (hall be mine.
Ah, deare Cordelia^ cordiall to my heart,
I am no palmer, as I feeme to be.
But hither come in this vnknowne difguife.
To view th’ admired beauty of thofe eyes.
I am the king of Gallia, gentle mayd,
(Although thus (lenderiy accompanied)
And yet thy valTayle by imperious loue.
And fworne to ferue theeeuerlaftingly.
Cor. What e’re you be, of high or low difcehf.
All’s one to me, I do requefl but this :
That as I am, you will accept of me.
And I will haue you whatfoe’re you be :
Yet well I know, you come of royall race,
I fee fuch fparks of honour in your face :
Mum. Haue palmers weeds fuch power to win fayre ladles ?
Fayth, then I hope the next that falles is myne ;
Vpon condition I no worfe might fpeed,
I would for euer weare a palmers weed.
VoL. IV. Mm
Hike
i The History of King Leir
I like an honeft and playne dealing wench,
That fweares (without exceptions) I will haue you.
Thefe foppets, that know not whether to loue a man or no,
except they firft go afke their mothers leaue, by this hand, 1
hate them ten tymes worfe then poyfon.
King, What relleth then our happinefle to procure I
Mum. Fayth, go to church, to make the matter fure.
King. It fhall be fo, bccaufe the world {hall fay.
King heirs three daughters were wedded in one day :
The celebration of this happy chaunce,
We will deferre, vntill we come io Fraimce.
Mum. I like the wooing, that’s not long a doing.
Well, for her fake, I know what I know :
He neuer marry whileft I hue.
Except I haue one of thefe BrittiJJj ladyes.
My humour is alienated from the mayds of Frauncc.
Exeunt.
Enter Perillus folns.
Per. The king hath difpofTcft himfelfe of all, ‘
Thofe to aduaunce, which fcarce will glue him thanks :
His youngefl daughter he hath turnd away.
And no man knowes what is become of her.
He foiournes now in Cornwall with the eldeft,
Who flattred him, vntill (he did obtayne
That at his hands, which now (lie doth pofTefTe :
And now file fees hee hath no more to giue,
It grieues her heart to fee her father liue.
Oh, whom fhould man trufl in this wicked age.
When children thus againft their parents rage I
But he, the myrrour of mild patience,
Puts vp all wrongs, and neuer giues reply :
Yet
AND KIS THREE DAUGHTERS,'
Yet niames flie not in mofl: opprobrious foit^
To call him foole and doierd to his face,
And fets her parafltes of purpofe oft,
In fcoffing wife to olfer him difgrace.
Oh yron age ! O times ! O monftrous, vilde,
When parents are contemned of the child !
His penfion Ihe hath halfe retrain’d from him.
And will, e’re long, the other halfe, Ifeare :
For file thinks nothing is beflowde in vayne,
But that which doth her fathers life maintayne.
Truft not alliance ; but truh Grangers rather,
Since daughters prone diHoyall to the father.
Well, I will counfell him the beh I can :
Would I were able to redrelTe his wrong.
Yet what I can, vnto my vtmofl: power.
He lliall be fure of to the la tell houre.
Enter Gonorill and Skalliger. ^
Con. I prithy, Skalliger y tell me what thou thinkfl:
Could any woman of our dignity
Endure fuch quips and peremptory taunts,
As I do daily from my doting father ?
'Doth’t not fuffice that I him. keepe of almes,
Who is not able for to keepe himfelfe ?
But as if he were our better, he fiiould thinke
To check and fnap me vp at euery word.
I cannot make me a new faQiioned gowne,
And fet it forth with more then common cofl: ;
But his old doting doltlfh withered wit.
Is fure to giue a fenceleiTe check for it.
I cannot make a banquet extraordinary.
To grace my felfe, and fpread my name abroad.
Rut he, old foole, is captious by and by,
And fayth, the cofl: would well fufhce for twice.
, Mm2
Exit,
ludge
The History of King Leir
ludge then, I pray, what reafon ifl:, that I
Should fland alone charg’d with his vaine cxpencc.
And that my filler Ragan fhould go free.
To whom he gaue as much, as vnto me ?
I prithy, Skalliger^ tell me, if thou know.
By any meanes to rid me of this woe.
Skal, Your many fauours flill beflowdc on me,
Binde me in duty to aduife your grace.
How you may foonefl: remedy this ill.
The large allowance which he hath from you.
Is that which makes him fo forget himfelfe :
Therefore abbridge it halfe, and you /hall fee,
Thathauing lelTe, he will more thankfull be :
For why, abundance maketh vs forget
The fountaynes whence the benefits do fprlng.
Oon, Well, Skalliger, for thy kynd aduice herein,
I will not be vngratefull, if I Hue :
I haue reflrayned halfe his portion already,
And I will prefently rellrayne the other,
That hauing no meanes to releeue himfelfe,
He may go feeke elfewhere for better helpe. Exit,
Skal. Go, viperous woman, fhame to all thy fexe :
The heauens, no doubt, will punifh thee for this :
And me a villayne, that to curry fauour,-
Haue giuen the daughter counfell ’gainft the father.
But vs the world doth this experience giue.
That he that cannot flatter, cannot Hue. Exit,
Enter king of Cornwall, Leir, Perillus and nobles.
Corn, Father, what ayleth you to be fo fad ?
Me thinks, you frollike not as you were wont.
Leir, The neerer we do grow vnto our graues.
The lefle we do delight in worldly ioyes.
Com
AND HIS THREE DAUGHTERS.
Corn. But if a man can frame himfelfe to myrth.
It is a meane for to prolong his life.
Lcir. Then welcome forrow, Leirs only friend,
\/ho doth delire his troubled dayes had end.
Corn. Comfort your felfe, father, here comes your daughter.
Who much will grieue, X know, to fee you fad.
Enter Gonorill.
Leir. But more doth grieue, I feare, to fee me Hue.
Corn. My Gonorilly you come in wilhed time,
To put your father from thefe penllue dumps.
In fayth, I feare that all things go not well.
Con. What, do you feare, that I haue angred him ?
Hath he complaynd of me vnto my lord ?
He proulde him a piece of bread and cheefe ;
For in a time heele pradfife nothing elfe.
Then carry tales from one vnto another.
TIs all his prafllfe for to kindle ftrife,
’Twixt yon, my lord, and me your louing wife :
But I will rake an order, if I can,
To ceafe th’ effect, where firfl the caufe began.
Corn. Sweet, be not angry in a partiall caufe,
He ne’re complayn’d of thee in all his life.
Father, you mull not weygh a woman’s words,
Leir. Alas, not I : poore foule, (he breeds yong bones,
And that is it makes her fo tutchy fure.
Con. What, breeds young bones already I you will make
An honeft woman of me then, belike.
O vild olde wretch ! who euer heard the like.
That feeketh thus his owne child .to defame ?
Corn, I cannot Aay to heare this difeord found. Exit,
Con. For any one that loues your company,
Mm3
The History of King Leir
You may go pack, and feekc fome other place, ,
'I'o fowe the feed of difeord and difgrace. ExH.
Leir. Thus, fay or do the bed that c’re I can,
Tis wreded draight into another fence,
This puniiTiment my heauydnnes deferue.
And more then this ten thoufand thoufand times :
Elfe aged Leir them could neuer find
Cruell to him, to whom he hath bin kind.
Why do I ouerdiue my felfe, to fee
The courfe of nature quite rcuerd in me ?
Ah, gentle death, if euer any wight
Did wida thy prefence with a perfit zeale :
Then come, I pray thee, euen with all my heart.
And end my forrowes with thy fatall dart.
He ’'jjeepes.
Per. Ah, do not fo difconfolate your felfe.
Nor dew your aged cheeks with wading teares.
Leir. What man art thou that taked any pity
Vpon the worthlede date of old Leir P
Per. One, who doth beare as great a diare of griefe,
As if it were my deared fathers cafe.
Leir. Ah, good my friend, how ill art thou aduifde.
For to confort with mifcrable men :
Gq learne to flatter, where thou mayd In time
Get fauour ’mongd the mighty, and fo clyme :
For now I am fo poore and full of want.
As diat I ne’re can recompence thy loue.
Per. What’s got by flattery, doth not- long indure ; *
And-mei*! in fauour hue not mod: fecure.
My confcience tels me, if I iTiould forfake you,
I were the hatcfuld excrenient on the earth :
VYhlch well do know, in courfe of former time.
How good my lord hath bin to me and mine,
AND HIS Three Daughters.
Leir. Did I ere rayfe thee higher then the reft
Of all thy anceftors which were before ?
Per, I ne’re did fceke it ; but by your good grace,
I ftill inioyed my owne with quietneire.
Lcir, Did I ere giue thee liuing, to increafe
The due reuennues which thy father left ?
Per, I had ynongh, my lord, and hauing that,
What fliould you need to giue me any more ?
Leir, Oh, did I euer difpofTefTe my felfe.
And giue thee halfe ray kingdome in good will ?
Per. Alas, my lord, there were no reafon, why
You diould haue fuch a thought, to giue it me.
Leir. Nay, if thou talke of reafon, then be mute ; ’
For with good reafon I can thee confute.
If they, which firft by natures facred law.
Do owe to me the tribute of their Hues ;
'If they to whom I alwayes haue bin kinde.
And bountifull beyond comparifon ;
If they, for whom I haue vndone my felfe.
And brought my age vnto this extreme want.
Do now reieff, contemne, defpife, abhor me.
What reafon moueth thee to forrow for me ?
Per, Where reafon fayles, let teares confirme my loue.
And fpeake how much your paflions do me moue.
Ah, good my lord, condemne not all for one :
You haue two daughters left, to whom I know
You fliall be welcome, if you pleafe to go.
Leir. Oh, how thy words adde forrow to my fonle^
To thinke of my vnkindnelTe to Cordelia !
Whom caufeleffe I did dlfpolTelTe of all.
Vpon th* vnkind fuggeflions of her fillers :
And for her fake, I thinke this heauy doome
Is falne on me, and not without defert :
Yet vlito Ragan was I alwayes kinde, .
Mm 4
And
The History of King Leir
And gaue to her the halfe of all I had :
It may be, if I fliould to her repayre.
She would be kinder, and intreat me fayrc.
Per, No doubt fhe would, and pra6tife ere’t be long.
By force of armes for to rcdrelTe your wrong.
Lcir. Well, fince thou doefi aduifeme for to go,
I am refolu’d to try the worfl of wo. Exeunt.
Enter Ragan folus.
Rag. How may I blelTe the howre of my natluity,
Which bodeth vnto me fuch happy ftarres !
How may I thank kind fortune, that vouchfafes
To all my actions, fuch defir’d euent I
I rule the king of Cambria as I pleafe :
The Rates are all obedient to my will ;
And looke what ere I fay, it (hall be fo ;
Not any one, that dareth anfwere no.
My elded fiRer Hues in royall Rate,
And wanteth nothing fitting her degree :
Yet hath R\e fuch a cooling card withall.
As that her hony fauoureth much of gall.
My father with her is quarter-maRer Rill,
And many times reRraynes her of her will :
But if he were with me, and feru’d me fo,
Ide fend him packing fome where elfe to go.
Ide entertayne him with fuch Render coR,
That he Rtould quickly wiRi to change his hoR.
Exit,
Enter Cornwall, Gonorill, and attendants,
C:rn. Ah, Gonorill, what dire vnhappy chaunce
Hath fequeRred thy father from our prefence.
That lio report can yet be heard of him ? ,
Some
AND HIS Three Daughters.
Some great vnkiadnefTe hath bln offred him,
Exceeding far the bounds of patience :
Elfe all the world lhall neuer me perfwade.
He would forfake vs without notice made.
Gon, Alas, my lord, whom doth it touch fo neere.
Or who hath intereft in this griefe, but I,
Whom forrow had brought to her longeft home.
But that I know his qualities fo well ?
I know, he is but ftolne vpon my filler
At vnawares, to fee her how ftie fares.
And fpend a little time with her, to note
How all things goe, and how fhe likes her choyce :
And when occafion ferues, heele fleale from her.
And vnawares returne to vs agayne.
Therefore, my lord, be frolick, and refolue
To fee my father here agayne e're iqng.
Corn. I hope fo too ; but yet to be more fure.
He fend a pofle immediately to know
Whether he be arriued there or no.
Gon. But I will intercept the mefTengcr,
And temper him before he doth depart,
With fweet perfwafions, and with found rewards.
That his report (hall ratify my fpeech.
And make my lord ceafe further to inquire.
If he be not gone to my fillers court.
As fure my mind prefageth that he is,
He happely may, by trauelling vnknowne wayes,
.Fall ficke, and as a common paflenger,
Be dead and buried : would God it were fo well ;
For then there were no more to do, but this.
He went away, and none knowes where he is.
But fay he be in Cambria with the king,
And there exclayme agalnll me, as he will :
I know he is as welcgmc tg my filler,
The History of King Leir
As water is into a broken Hiip.
Well, after him He fend fuch thunderclaps
Of flaunder, fcandall, and inuented tales,
That all the blame fliall be remou’d from me,
And vnperceiu’d rebound vpon himfelfe.
Thus with one nayle another He expell,
And make the world iudge, that I vfde him well.
Enter the mejfenger that JJjoidd go to Cambria, ivkh a letter in
his hand.
Con. My honeft friend, whither away fo fafl ?
Mef. To Cambria^ madam, with letters fro the king.
Gon> To whom?
Meff, Vnto your father, if he be there.
Con. Let me fee them. .She opens them.
Mcff. Madam, I hope your grace will Hand
Betweene me and my neck-verfe, if I be
Calld in queflion, for opening the kings letters.
Con. ’Twas I that opened them, it was not thou.
Mef. I, but you need not care, and fo muH I,
A hanfome man, be quickly truH vp.
And when a man’s hang’d, all the world cannot faue him.
Con. He that hangs thee, were better hang his father,
Or that but hurts thee in the leafl degree,
I tell thee, we make great account of thee.
Mef I am o’re-ioy’d, I furfet of fweet words :
Kind queene, had I a hundred hues, I would ,
Spend ninety nyne of them for you, for that word.
Con. I, but thou wouldft keepe one life Hill,
And that’s as many as thou art like to haue.
Mef. That one life is not too deare for my good .queene ;
this fword, this buckler, this head, this heart, thefe hands,
armes, lcgs,_ tripes, bowels, and all the members elfe what.
foeuer, are at your difpofe 5 vfe me, tfuH me, commaund me j
if
AND HIS Three Daughters,
if I fayle in any thing, tye me to a dung cart, and make a
fcauengers horfe of me, and whip me, fo long as I hane any
ikin on my back,
Gon. In token of further imployment, take that.
Flings him apurfe.,
Mef. A firong bond, a firme obligation, good in law, good
in law : if I keepe not the condition, let my necke be the
forfeyture of my negligence.
Con. I like thee well, thou hall a good toung.
Mtf. And as bad a toung if it be fet on it, as any oyHerwife
?it BilUnfgate hath : why, I haue made many of my neigh-
bours forfake their houfes with rayling vpon them, and go
dwell elfe where ; and fo by my meanes houfes haue bin good
cheape in our parifh : my toung being well whetted with chol-
ler, is more fharpe then a razer of Palerno.
Gon. O thou art a fit man for my purpofe.
Mef. Commend me not, fweet queenc, before j/ou try me.
As my deferts are, fo do think of me.
. Gon. Well fayd, then this is thy tryall : inffead of carrying
the kings letters to my father, carry thou thefe letters to my
filler, which contayne matter quite contrary to the other; there
fhal file be giuen to vnderfland, that my father hath detracted
her, giuen out flaundrous fpeaches againfl her; and that hee
hath mofl intollerably abufed me, fet my lord and me at va-
riance, and made mutinyes amongft the commons.
Thefe things (although it be not fo)
Yet thou mull affirme them to be true,
. With othes and proteAations as will ferue,
To driue my filler out of loue with him.
And caufe my will accomplifhed to be.
This do, thou winft my faiiour for euer.
And makeft a hye way of preferment to thee ,
And all thy friends.
Meff,
The Historv of King Leir
Meff. Itfufficeth, conceyt it is already done :
I will fo toung-whip him, that I will
Leaue him as bare of credit, as a poulter
Leaues a cony, when fhe pulls off his flcin.
• Coyi. Yet there is a further matter.
Mef. I thirlf to heare it.
Gon. Ifmyfifter thinketh conuenient, as my letters import-
cth, to make him away, hafl thou the heart to effeft it?
Mejf. Few words are beft in fo fmall a matter :
Thefe are but trifles. By this booke I will.
KiJJ'e the paper,
Gon, About it prefently, I long till it be done.
Mef. I fly, I fly. _ Exeuyit.
Enter Cordelia fohis,
I haue bin ouer-negligent to day.
In going to the temple of my God,
To render thanks for all his benefits,
Which he miraculoufly hath beflowed on me.
In rayfing me out of my meane eflate.
When as I was deuoyd of worldly friends,
*. And placing me in fuch a fweet content.
As far exceeds the reach of my deferts.
My kingly hufband, myrrour of his time,
For zeale, for inflice, kindhefle, and for care '
To God, his fubieefs, me, and common weale.
By his appoyntment was ordaynd for me.
I cannot wifh the thing that I do want;
I cannot want the thing but I may haue,
Saue only this which I fhall ne’re obtayne.
My fithers loue, oh this I ne’re fhall gayne.
I would abftayne from any nutryment.
And pyne my body to the very bones :
Bare
1
AND HIS THREE DAUGHTERS.
Bare foote I would on pilgrimage fet forth
Vnto the furthefl: quarters of the earth.
And all my life time would I fackcloth weare.
And mourning-wife powre dufi: vpon my head ;
So he but to fcrgiue me once would pleafe.
That his gray haires might go to heaueti in peace.
And yet I know not how I him offended.
Or wherein iuflly 1 haue deferued blame.
Oh fiflers ! you are much to blame in this.
It was not he, but you that did me wrong.
Yet God forgiue both him, and you and me,
Euen as I doe in perfit charity.
I will to church, and pray vnto my Sauiour,
That ere I dye, I may obtayne his fauour. Exit,
Enter Leir and Perillus fayntly.
Per, Reft on me, my lord, and ftay your felfe.
The way feemes tedious to your aged iymmes.
heir. Nay, reft on me, kind friend, and ftay thy felfe.
Thou art as old as I, but more kind.
Per. Ah, good my lord, it ill befits, that I
Should leane vpon the perfon of a king.
Leir. But it fits worfe, that I fliould bring thee forth.
That had no caufe to come along with me.
Through thefe vncouth paths, and tirefull wayes,
And neuer eafe thy faynting limmes a whit.
Thou haft left all, I, ail to come with me.
And I, for all, haue nought to guerdon thee.
Per. Ceafe, good my lord, to aggrauate my woes,
With thefe kind words, which cuts my heart in two.
To think your will fhould want the power to do.
Leir. Ceafe, good Perillus ^ for to call me lord.
And think me but the fhaddow of my felfe.
r
1
/ The History of King Leir
Per. That honourable title will I giue, -
Vnto my lord, fo long as I do liue.
Oh, be of comfort ; for I fee the place
Whereas your daughter keeps her refidence.
And loe, in happy time the Cambrian prince
Is here arriu’d, to gratify our comming. ' .
Enter the prince of Cambria, Ragan, and nohks : looke vpon
them, and whi/per together,
Leir. Were I beft fpeak, or fit me downe and dye ?
I am alham’d to tell this heauy tale.
Per. Then let me tell it, if you pleafe, my lord :
Tis fliame for them that were the caufe thereof.
Cam. What two old men are thofe that feeme'fo fad ?
Me thinks, I fliould remember well their lookes.
Rag, No, I miftake not, fure it is my father :
I mufl dilTemblc kindneffe now of force.
She runneth to him, and kneeles doivne, faying ;
Father, I bid you welcome, full of grlefe,
To fee your grace vfde thus vnworthily,
And ill befitting for your reucrend age.
To come on foot a ionrney fo indurable.
Oh, what difafler channce hath bin the caufe.
To make your cheeks fo hollow, fpare and leane ?
He cannot fpeake for weeping : for Gods loue, come,
Let vs refrefli him with fome needfull things,
And at more leyfiire we may better know.
Whence fprings the ground of this vnlookt for wo.
Cam. Come, father, e’re we any further talke,
You (hall rcfrePi you after this weary walk. *
Exeunt, manct Ragan*
Rag,
and his Three Daughters.
Rag. Comes he to me with finger in the eye,
To tell a tale againfi: my fifier here ?
Whom I do know, he greatly hath abufde :
And now like a contentious crafty wretch.
He firfi: begins for to complayne himfelfe, .
When as himfelfe is in the greatefi: fault.
He not be partiall in my fillers caufe,'
Nor yet beleeue his doting vayne reports :
Who for a trifle (fafely) I dare fay,
Vpon a fpleene is flolen thence away : '
And here (forfooth) he hopeth to haue harbour.
And to be moan’d and made on like a child :
But ere’t be long, his comming he fhall curfe.
And truely fay, he came from bad to worfe :
Yet will I make fay re weather, to procure
Conuenient meanes, and then He flrike it fure. Exit*
Enter mejfengcr folus.
Mef. Now happily I am arriued here,
Before the ftately palace of the Cambrian king :
If Leir be here fafe-feated, and in reft.
To rowfe him from it I will do my beft.
Enter Ragan.
Now bags of gold, your vertue is (no doubt)
To make me in my melTage bold and ftout.
The King of heauen preferue your maiefty.
Arid fend your highnefle euerlafting raigne.
Ra. Thanks, good my friend ; but what Imports th]^
meflage I
Mef, Kind greetings from the Cornwall queene :
The refidue thefe letters will declare,
'She opens the letters.
Rag, How fares our royall After ?
The History of King Lzir
MeJ. I did leaue her at my parting, in good health.
She reads the letter, frowries and Jl amps.
See how her colour comes and goes agayne.
Now red as fcarlet, now as pale as afh :
She how (he knits her brow, and bytes her lips,
And ftamps, and makes a dumbe ftiew of difdayne,
Mixt with rcuenge, and violent extreames.
Here will be more worke and more crownes for me.
Rag. Alas, poore foule, and hath he vfde her thus ?
And is he now come hither, with intent
To.fet diuorce betwixt my lord and me ?
Doth he glue out, that he doth heare report.
That I do rule my hufband as I lift.
And therefore meanes to alter fo the cafe,
That I fliall know my lord to be my head ?
Well, it were beft for him to take good heed.
Or 1 will make him hop without a head.
For his prefumption, dottard that he is.
In Cornwall he hath made fuch mutinies,
Firft, fetting of the kingagainft the queene ;
Then ftirring vp the commons ^gainft the king ;
That had he there continued any longer,
He had bin call’d in queftion for his fa(ft:.
So vpon that occafion thence he fled.
And comes thus flily ftealing vnto vs :
And now already flnce his comming hither.
My lord and he are growne in fuch a league.
That I can haue no conference with his grace :
I fcare, he doth already intimate
Some forged cauillations ’gainft my ftate :
Tis therefore beft to cut him off in time.
Left flaunderous rumours once abroad difperft,
It is too late for them to be reiierft.
' Friend,
AND HIS Three Daughter^-
Friend, as the tennour of thefe letters fhew^s.
My fifter puts great confidence in thee.
Mef. She neuer yet committed trufi; to me.
But that (I hope) fhe found me alwayes faythfull t
So will I be to any friend of hers,
That hath occafion to imploy my helpei*
Rag, Haft thou the heart to aft a ftratagemi
And giue a ftabbe or two, if need require ;
Mejf, I hc^e a heart compa(ft: of adamant.
Which neuer knew what melting pitty meant*
I weigh no more the murdring of a man,
Then I refpeift: the cracking of a flea,
When I doe catch her by ting on my flcin.
If you will haue your hulband or your father,
Or both of them fent to another world.
Do but commaund me doo’t, it IhalJ be done.
Rag, It is ynough, we make no doubt of thee :
Meet vs to morrow here, at nyne a clock :
Meane while, farewell, and drink that for my fake. Exit a
Mef, I, this is it will make me do the deed ;
Oh, had I every day fuch cuftomers,
This v/ere the gainefulft trade in Chrijlendome !
A purfe of gold giu’n for a paltry ftabbe !
Why, heres a wench that longs to haue a ftabbe.
Wei, I could giue it her, and ne’re hurt her neither.
Enter the Gallian king, and Cordelia.
King, When will thefe clouds of forrow once difperfe*
And fmiling ioy tryumph vpon thy brow ?
When will this fcene of fadneflTe haue an end,
And pleafant a<fl:s infue, to moue delight ?
When will my louely queene ceafe to lament.
And, take fome comfort to her grieued thoughts ?
VoL. IV, N n "
It
If
The History of King Leir
If ofthyfelfe thou daignft to haue no care,
Yet pitty me, whom ihy grlefc makes defpayre.
Cor. O, grieue not you," my lord, you* haue no caufe
Let not my paffions moue your mind a whit :
For I am bound by nature, to lament
For his ill will, that life to me firfl lent.
If fo the flocke be dryed with difdayne.
Withered and fere the branch mufl needcs remaine.
King. But thou art now graft in another flock ;
I am the flock, and thou the louely branch :
And from my root continuall fap fhall flow.
To make thee flourifh with perpetual fpring.
Forget thy father and thy kindred now.
Since they forfake thee like inhumane beafles,
Thinke they are dead, fince all their kindnefle dyes.
And bury them, where black obliuion lyes.
Think not thou art the daughter of old Leiry
Who did vnkindly difinherit thee :
But think thou art the noble Gallian queene,
And wife to him that dearely loueth thee :
Embrace the ioyes that prefent with thee dwell.
Let forrow packc and hide her felfe in hell.
Cord. Not that I inifle my country or my kinne.
My old acquaintance or my ancient friends.
Doth any whit diflemperate my mynd,
Knowing you, which are more deare to me.
Then country, kin, and all things els can be.
Yet pardon me, my gracious lord, in this :
For what carl flop the courfe of nature’s power I
As eafy is it for foure-footed beafls.
To flay themfelues vpon the liquid ayre,
And mount aloft into the element,
And ouerflrip the feathered fowles in flight : ’
As eafy is it for the flimy fifh,
AND HIS Three Daughters'^
To Hue and thriue without the helpe of water :
As eafy is it for the blackamodre,
To wafh the tawny colour from his fkin.
Which all oppofe againfl the courfe of nature.
As I am able to forget my father.
King. Myrrour of vertue, Phoenix of our age I
Too kind a daughter for an vnkind father.
Be of good comfort; for I will difpatch
AmbalTadors immediately for Brittayne,
Vnto the king of Cornwalls court, whereas
Your father keepeth now his refidence.
And in the kindeft maner him intreat.
That fetting former gricuances apart.
He will be pleafde to come and vifit vs.
If no intreaty will fufEce the turne.
He offer him the halfe of all my crowne :
If that moues not, weele furnifh out a fleet,
And fayle to Cornwall for to vifit him ;
And there you (hall be firmely reconcilde
In perfit loue, as earfl: you were before.
Cor. Where toung cannot fuflicient thanks afford.
The king of heauen remunerate my lord.
King. Only be blithe, and frolick (fweet) with me :
This and much more He do to comfort thee.
Efiier ntejfenger Joins*
Mef. It is a world to fee now I am flufh.
How many friends I purchafe euery where !
How many feekes to creepe into my fauour,
And kifle their hands, and bend their knees to me !
No more, here comes the queene, now (hall I know hei^
mind,
And hope for to deriue more crownes from her.
N n 2 Enter
*
1
The History of King Leir
Enter Raga.
Rag. My friend, I fee thou mlnd’R thy'promlfe well.
And art before me here, me* thinks, to day,
Mef. I am a poore man, and it like your grace ;
But yet I alwayes loue to keepe my word.
Ra. Wei, keepe thy word with me, and thou flialt fee,
That of a poore man I will make thee rich.
Mef. 1 long to heare ic, it might haue bin difpatcht.
If you had told me of it yeflernight.
Ra. It Is a thing of right ftrange confequence,
And well I cannot vtter It in words.
Mef. It is more flrange, that I am not by this
Befide my felfe, with longing for to heare it.
Were it to meet the deuill in his denne.
And try a bout with him for a fcratcht face,
Ide vndertake It, if you would but bid me.
Ra, Ah, good my .friend, that I Ihould haue thee do.
Is fuch a thing, as I do fhame to fpeake ;
Yet it muft needs be done.
Mef He fpeake it for thee, queene ; ftiall I kill thy father ?
I know tis that, and if it be fo, fay.
Rag. I.
Mef Why, thats ynough.
Rag. And yet that is not ail.
Mef What elfe ?
Rag. Thou muft kill that old man that came with him.
Mif Here are two hands, for eche of them is one.
Rag. And for eche hand here is a recompence.
Giue him two piirfes.
Mef Oh, that I had ten hands by myracle,
i could teare ten in pieces with my teeth.
So
AND HIS THREE DAUGHTERS.
So In my mouth yould put a purfe of gold.
But in what manner rnufl it be effected ?
Rdg, To morrow morning ere the breake of day,
I by a wyle will' fend them to the thicket,
That is about fome two myles from the court.
And promife them to meet them there my felfe,
Becaufe I mufl: haue priuate conference.
About fome newes I haue receyu’d from Coni-walL
This is ynough, I know, they will not fayle,
And then be ready for to play thy part :
Which done, thou mayft right cafily efcape.
And no man once miflruH: thee for the fafl ;
But yet, before thou profecute the a<51:.
Shew him the letter, which my filler fent.
There let him read his owne inditement firll.
And then proceed to execution :
But fee thou faynt not ; for they will fpeake fayre.
Mef. Could he fpeak words as plealing as the pipe
Of Mercury y which charm’d the hundred eyes
Of watchful! ArgoSy and inforc’d him fleepe :
Yet here are words fo pleafing to my thoughts.
To the purfe*
As quite lhall take away the found of his. Exit*
Rag. About it then, and when thou hall difpatcht,
He find a meanes to fend thee after him Exit,
Enter Cornwall and Gonorill,
Corn. I wonder that the meffenger doth Bay,
Whom we difpatcht for Cambria fo long fince ;
If that his anfwere do not pleafe vs well,
And he do Ihew good reafon for delay.
He teach him how to dally with his king,
And to detayne vs in fuch long fufpence.
N n 3 ' Con*
The History of Kimg Leir
Con. My lord, I thinke the reafon may be this :
My father meanes to come along with him ; ,
And therefore tis his pleafure he (hall flay,
For to attend vpon him on the way.
Corn. It may be fo, and therfore till I know
The truth thereof, I will fufpend my iudgement.
Enter Seruant,
Ser. And’t like your grace, there is an ambafTador
Arriuedfrom Gallia^ and craues admittance to your maieAy,
Corn. From Gallia ? what (liould his melTage
Hither import ? is not your father happely
Gone thither \ weD, whatfoere it be,
Bid him come in, he (liall haue audience. -
Enter ambajfador.
What newes from Gallia f fpeake ambafTador.
Am. The noble king and queene of Gallia firfl: falutes,
By me, their honourable father, my lord Leir :
Next, they commend them kindly to your graces.
As thofe whofe wellfare they intirely wifh.
Letters I haue to deliuer to -my lord' Leir ,
And prefents too, if I might fpeake with him.
Gon. If you might fpeak with him ? why, do you thinkCi
We are afrayd that you fhould fpeake with him ?
Am. Pardon me, madam ; for I thinke not fo.
But fay fo onl)^ ’caufe he is not here.
Corn. Indeed, my friend, vpon feme vrgent caufe.
He is at this time abfent from the court :
But if a day or two you here repofe,
Tis very likely you fnall haue him here,
Cr elfe haue certayne iiotice where he is.
AND HIS THREE DAUGHTERS.’ '
Con. Are not we worthy to receiue your melTagc ?
Am. I had in charge to do it to himfelfe.
Con. It may be then ’twill not be done in hade.
To herfclfe^
How doth my fifter brooke the ayre of Fraunce ?
Am. Exceeding well, and neuer ficke one houre,
Since firft fhe fet her foot vpon the fhore. '
Con. I am the more forry.
Am. I hope, not fo, madam.
Con. Didd thou not fay, that fhe was euer ficke.
Since the fird houre that die arriued there ?
Amb. No, madam, I fayd quite contrary.
Con. Then I midooke thee.
Corn. Then fhe is merry, if fhe haue her health.
Am. Oh no, her griefe exceeds, vntill the time.
That fhe be reconcil’d unto hsr father.
Con. God continue it.
Am. What, madam
Con. Why, her health.
Am. Amen to that : but God releafe her griefe.
And fend her father in a better mind.
Then to continue alwayes fo vnkind.
Corn. He be a mediator in her caufe.
And feeke all meanes to expiat his wrath.
Am. Madam, I hope your grace will do the like.,
Con. Should I be a meane to exafperate his wrath
Againd my fider, whom I loue fo deare ? no, no.
Am. To expiate or mlttigate his wrath ;
For he hath mifconceyued without a caufe.
Con. O, I, what elfe I
Am. Tis pity it fhould be fo, would it were otherwife.
, Con. It were great pity it fhould be otherwife.
Am, Then how, madam ?
Con. Then that they fhould be reconcilde againe.
N n 4 Am.
The History or King Leir
Jm. It /hcwcs you beare an honourable mind.
Con. It fhewes thy vnderftanding to be blind.
And that thou hadft need of an interpreter :
Speakes to her felfe.
Well, I will know thy melTage ere’t be long,
And find a meane to croffe it, if I can.
Corn. Come in, my friend, and frolick in our court,
Till certayne notice of my father come. Exeunt,
Enter Leir and Perillus.
Per. My lord, you are vp to day before your houre,
Tis newes to you to be abroad fo rathe.
Leir. Tis newes indeed, I am fo extreme heauy.
That I can fcarcely keepe my eye-lids open.
Per. And fo am I, but I impute the caufe
To rifing fooner then we vfe to do,
Leir. Hither my daughter meanes to come difguis’d :
lie fit me downe, and read vntill fhe come.
Pull out a booke and Jit downe^
Per. Sheele not be long,- 1 warrant you, my lord :
But fay, a couple of thefe they call good fellowcs,
Should Aep out of a hedge, and fet vpon vs.
We were imgood cafe for to anfwere them.
Leir. ’Twere not for vs to Hand vpon our hands.
Per. I feare, we fcant fhould (land vpon our legs.
But how fhould we do to defend our felues ?
Leir. Euen pray to God, to bleffe vs fro'thelr hands s
For feruent prayer much ill hap withflands.
Per. He fit and pray with you for company ;
Yet was I ne’re fo heauy in my life.
They fall both ajleepe.
Enter the mejfenger or murtherer with two daggers in his hands.
McjT. Were it, net a mad iefi:, if two or three of my pro-
tcfTib fiiouid meet me, and lay me downe in a ditch, and piay
robbe
AND Kis Three Daughters.
robbe thiefe with me, and perforce take my gold away from
me, whileft I aft this ftratagem, and by this meanes the gray
beards fhould efcape f Fayth, when I were at liberty againe,
I would make no more to do, but go to the next tree, and .
there hang my felfe.
See them and ftart.
But flay, me thinks, my youthes are here already.
And with pure zeale haue prayed themfelues afleepe.
I thinke, they know to what intent they came.
And are prouided for another world.
He takes their hookes aivay.
Now could I flab them brauely, while they flcepe.
And in a maner put them to no payne ;
And doing fo, I (liewed them mighty friendlhip ;
For feare of death is worfe then death it felfe.
But that my fweet queene will’d me for to fhew
This letter to them, ere I did the deed.
Maffe, they begin to flirre : He Hand afide ;
So (hall I come vpon them vna wares.
They 'wake and rlfe^
Leir. I maruell, that my daughter Hayes fo long.
Per, I feare, we did miHake the place, my lord.
Leir, God graunt we do not mifcarry in the place :
I had a (hort nap, but fo full of dread.
As much amazeth me to think thereof.
Per, Feare not, my lord, dreames are but fantafies.
And flight imaginations of the brayne.
Mef, Perfwade him fo, but He make him and you
Confeffe, that dreames do often proue too true.
Per. I prayi my lord, what was the eifeft of it ?
I may go neere to geffe what it pretends.
Mef, Leaue that to me, I will expound the dreame.
Leir, Me thought, my daughters, GonoriU and Ragan,
Stood
The History of King Leir
Stood both before me with fuch grim afpe£Vs,
Eche brandirhing a faulchion in their hand.
Ready to lop a lymme off where it fell.
And in their other hands a naked poynyard,
Wherwith they fiabd me in a hundred places.
And to their thinking left me there for dead :
But then my youngefl daughter, fayre Cordelia,
Came with a boxe of balfome in her hand.
And powred it into my bleeding wounds.
By whofe good meanes I was recoured well,
In perfit health, as earfl I was before :
And with the feare of this I did awake.
And yet for feare my feeble ioynts do quake.
JVIef, He make you quake for fomething prefen tly.
Stand, ftand.
They reek,
Heir. We do, my friend, although with much adoe.
Mef. Deliuer, 'deliucr.
Per. Deliner vs, good Lord, from fuch as he.
Mef. You fhould'haue prayed before, while it was time.
And then perhaps, you might haue fcapt my hands :
But you, like faithfull watch-meu, fell afleepe.
The whilft I cameand tooke your halberds from you.
Shew their bookes.
And now you want your weapons of defence,
How haue you any hope to be deliuered ?
This comes, becaufe you haue no better Aay,
But fall afleepe, when you fhould watch and pray ?
Leir. My friend, thou feemfl to be a proper man.
Mef. Sblood, how the old flaiie clawes me by the elbow ?
He thinks, belike, to fcape by fcraping thus.
Per. And it may be, are in fome need of money.
Mef. That to be falfe, behold my euidence.
Skewes his purfes.
Leir,
AND HIS THREE DAUGHTERS.
Leir, If that I haue will do thee any good,
I giue it thee, euen with a right good will.
Take it.
Per, Here, take mine too, and wi(h with all my heart.
To do thee pleafure, it were twice as much.
Take his, and weygh them both in his hands,
Mef, He none of them, they are too light for me.
Puts them in his pocket.
Why then farewell : and if thou haue occalion
In any thing, to vfe me to the queene,
"Tis like ynough that I can pleafure thee.
They proffer to goe,
Mef. Do you heare, do you heare, fir ?
If I had occafiQn to vfe you to the queene,
Would you do one thing for me I fhould alke ?
Leir.^ I, any thing that lyes within my power.
Here is my hand vpon Tt, fo farewell.
Proffer to goe,
Mef. Heare you fir, heare you ? pray, a word with you.
Me thinks, a comely honefl ancient man
Should not dilTemble with one for a vantage.
I know, when I fhall co’me to try this geare.
You will recant from all that you haue fayd.
Per. Miftruft not him, but try him when thou wilt -;
He is her father, therefore may do much.
Mef I know he is, and therefore meane to try him :
You are' his friend too, I mull try you both.
Amho. Prithy do, prithy do.
Proffer to go out.
Mef Stay gray-beards then, and proue men of your words ;
The queene hath tyed me by a folemne othe,
Here in this place to fee you both difpatcht ;
Now for the fafegard of my confcience,
l^o me the pleafure for to kill your felues :
The History of King Leir
So fliall you faue me labour for to do it,
And proue your felues true old men of your words.
And here I vow in fight of all the world,
I ne’re will trouble you whilft I Hue agayno.
Leir. Affright vs not with terrour, good my friend.
Nor ftrike fuch feare into our aged hearts.
Play not the cat, which daitieth with the moufe ;
And on a fudden maketh her a pray :
But if thou art markt for the mau of death
To me and to my Damion^ tell me playne.
That we may be prepared for the ftro ke.
And make our felues fit for the world to come.
Mef. I am the lafi: of any mortall race.
That ere your eyes are likely to behold,
And hither fent of purpofe to this place,
To giue a finall period to your dayes.
Which are fo wicked, and haue liued fo long,
That your o^vne children feeke to iliort your life.
Leir. Camfi: thou from France, of purpofe to do this ?
Mef. From France P zoones, do I looke like a Frenchman ?
Sure I haue not mine owne face on ; fome body hath chang’d
faces with me, and I know not of it : but 1 am fure, my ap-
parell is all EngVifh. Sirra, what meanefi thou to afke that
quefiion ? I could fpoyle the fafhion of this face for anger. A
French face !
Leir. Becaufe my daughter, whom I haue offended.
And at whofe hands I haue deferu’d as ill.
As euer any father did of child.
Is queene of Fraunce, no thanks at all to me,
But vnto God, who my iniufiice fee.
If it be fo, that fliee doth feeke reuenge,
As with good reafon fhe may iuftly do,
I will mofi: willingly refigne my life,
A facrifice to rrfitiigate her ire ;
I neuer
AND HIS Three Daughters.
I neuer will intreat thee to forgiue,
Becaufe I am vnworthy for to Hue.
Therefore fpeake foone, and I will foone make fpeed :
Cordelia will’d thee do this deed ?
Mef. As I am a perfit gentleman, thou fpeakft Freneh to
I neuer heard Cordellaes name before,
Nor neuer was in Fraunce in all my life :
I neuer knew thou hadfl a daughter there.
To whom thou didfl proue fo vnkind a churle :
But thy owne toung declares that thou haft bin
A vyle old wretch, and full of heynous fin.
Leir. Ah no, my friend, thou art deceyued much :
For her except, whom I confefTe I wrongd.
Through doting frenzy, and o’re-ielous lone.
There Hues not any vnder heauens bright eye.
That can conuidl me of impiety :
And therfore fure thou doft miftake the marke :
Fori am in true peace with all the world.
Mef. You are the fitter for the King of heauen :
And therefore, for to rid thee of fufpence.
Know thou, the queenes of Cambria and Cornwall,
Thy owne two* daughters, Gonorill and Ragan,
Appoynted me to maffacre thee here.
Why wouldft thou then perfwade me, that thou art
In charity with all the world ? but now
When thy owne iffue hold thee in fuch hate.
That they haue hyred me t’abbridge thy fate.
Oh, fy vpon fuch vyle difiembling breath.
That would deceyue, euen at the poynt of death.
Per. Am I awake, or is It but a dreame ?
Mef. Feare nothing, man, thou art but in a dreame.
And thou (halt neuer wake vntill doomes day.
By then, I hope, thou wilt haue flept ynough.
heir. Yet, gentle friend, graunt one thing ere I die,
The History of King Leir
MeJ. He graunt you any thing, except your Hues.
Leir. Oh, but afTure me by fome certayne token.
That my two daughters hyred thee to this deed :
If I were once refolu’d of that, then I
Would wilh no longer life, but craue to dye.
Mef. That to be true, in fight of heauen I fweare.
Leir. Sweare not by heauen, for feare of punilhmet :
The heauens are guiltlefle of fuch haynous a6fs.
; MeJ. I fweare by earth, the mother of vs all.
Leir. Sweare not by earth ; for fhe abhors to beare
Such baflards, as are murtherers of her fonnes.
Mef. Why then, by hell, and all the deuils I fweare.
Leir. Sweare not by hell ; for that ftands gaping wide.
To fwallow thee, and if thou do this deed.
Thunder and lightning.
Mef. I would that word were in his belly agayne.
It hath frighted me euen to the very heart ;
This old man is fome flrong magician :
His words haue turnd my mind from this exployt.
Then neyther heauen, earth, nor hell be witnefTe ;
But let this paper witnelTe for them all,
Shewes Gonorils letter.
Shall I relent, or (hall I profecute ?
Shall I refolue, or were I befl recant ?
I will not crack my credit with two queenes,
To whom I haue already paft my word.
Ob, but m.y confcience for this a<fl doth tell,
I get heauens hate, earths fcorne, and paynes of hell.
They blejje themfelues.
Per, Oh iuft lehoua, whofe almighty power
Doth gouerne all things in, this fpacious world,
How canft thou fuffer fuch outragious afis
To be committed without iuft reuenge \
O viperous
and his three Daughters.
0 viperous generation and accurft, ^ .
To feeke his blood, whofe blood did make them firft !
Leir, Ah, my true friend in all extremity,
Let vs fubmit vs to the will of God :
Things pad all fence, let vs not feeke to know;
It is Gods will, and therefore mull: be fo.
My friend, I am prepared for the flroke :
Strike when thou wilt, and I forgiue thee here,
Euen from the very bottome of my heart.
Mef. But I am not prepared for to Brike.
heir. Farewell, Per Ulus, euen the trueB friend.
That euer liued in aduerfity : '
The lateB kindnelTe He requefl of thee,
Is that thou go vnto my daughter Cordelia^
And carry her her fathers lateB bleffing :
Withal! defire her, that fhe will forgiue me ;
For I haue wrongd her without any caufe.
Now, lord, receyue me, for I come to thee.
And dye, I hope, in perfit charity.
Difpatch, I pray thee, I haue liued too long.
Mef, I, but you are unwife, to fend an errand
By him that neuer meaneth to deliuer it :
Why, he mull: go along with you to heauen :
It were not good you fiiould go all alone. ,
heir. No doubt, he fiial, when by the courfe of nature,,
He mufl furrender vp his due to death :
But that time (hall not come, till God permit
Mef, Nay, prefently, to beare you company.
1 haue a pafport for him in my pocket.
Already feald, and he muft needs ride poBe.
Shew a bagge of money*
heir. The letter which I read, imports not fo.
It only toucheth me, no word of him.
The History of KtNc Leir
Mejf. I, but the quccne commaunds it muft be fo^
And I am payd for him, as well as you.
Per. I, who haue borne you company in life,
Moft willingly will bearc a fhare in death.
It fkilleth not for me, my friend, a whit,
Nor for a hundred fuch as thou and I.
Mef. Mary, but it doth, fir, by your Icaue ; your good dayes
are part : though it bee no matter for you, tis a matter for
me, proper men are not fo rife.
Per. Oh, but beware, how thou doft lay thy hand
Vpon the high anoynted of the Lord :
O, be aduifed ere thou dofl begin :
Difpatch me flraight, but meddle not with him,
Leir. Friend, thy com million is to deale with me.
And I am he that hath deferued all :
The plot was layd to take away my life :
And here it is, I do intreat thee take it :
Yet for my fake, and as thou art a man, ^
Spare this my friend, that hither with me came :
I brought him forth, whereas he had not bin, ^
But for good will to beare me company.
He left his friends, his country and his goods.
And came with me in mofl extremity.
Oh, if he fhould mifearry here and dye.
Who Is thecaufe of it, but only I ?
Mef. Why that am I, let that ne’re trouble thee.
Leir. O no, tis T. O, had I now to giue thee
The monarchy of all the fpacious world
To faue his life, I would bellow it on thee :
But I haue nothing but thefe teares and prayers.
And the fubmilTion of a bended knee.
kneele.
O, if all this to mercy moue thy mind.
Spare him, in heauen thou (halt like mercy hud,
Mef
AND HIS THREE DAUGHTERS.
Mef, I am as hard to be moued as another, and yet me
thinks the ftrength of their perfwafions ftirres me a little.
Per. My friend, if feare of the almighty power
Haue power to moue thee, we hane fayd ynough :
But if thy mind be moueable with gold.
We haue not prefently to giue it thee ;
Yet to thy felfe thou mayff do greater good.
To keepe thy hands Aill vndefilde from blood :
For do but well confider with thy felfe.
When thou haft finilht this oiitragious aft,
What horrour ftill will haunt thee for the deed :
Think this agayne, that they which would incenfc
Thee for to be the butcher of their father,
When.it is done, for feare it fhould be knowne.
Would make a meanes to rid thee from the world :
Oh, then art thou for euer tyed in chaynes
Of euei'lafting torments to indure,
Euen in the hoteft hole of grifly hell.
Such paynes, as neuer mortall toung can tell.
It thunders. He quakes, and lets fall the dagger next to
Perillus.
Lelr. O, heauens be thanked, he will fpare my friend.
Now when thou wilt come make an end of me.
He lets fall the other dagger.
Per. Oh, happy fight ! he meanes to faue my lord.
The king of heauen continue this good mind.
Lelr. Why ifayfl thou to do execution ?
Mef, I am as vvilfull as you for your life :
I will not do it, now you do in treat me.
Per. Ah, now I fee thou hafl: fome fparke of grace.
Mef. Beflirew you f9r it, you haue put it in me ;
The parlofeft old men, that ere I heard.
Well, to be flat. He not meddle with you ;
VoL. IV, ’ 0 o Here
The History of King I.eir
Here 1 found you, and here He leaue you :
If any afke you why the cafe fo Hand ?
Say that your toungs were better then your hands.
Exit
Per. Farewell. If euer we together meet,
It fhall go hard, but I will thee regreet.
Courage, my lord, the worft is ouerpaft ;
Let vs giue thanks to God, and hye vs hence.
Leir. Thou art deceyiied ; for I am pall: the beff.
And know not whither for to go from hence :
Death had bin better welcome vnto me.
Then longer life to adde more mifery.
Per. It were not good to returne from whence we came,
Vnto your daughter Ragan back againe.
Now let vs go to France, vnto Cordelia,
Your youngeft daughter, doubtlelTe file will fuccouryon,
heir. Oh, how can I perfwade my felfe of that,
Since the other two are quite deuoyd of loue;
To whom I was fo kind, as that my gifts,
Might make them loue me, if ’twere nothing elfe ?
Per. No worldly gifts, but grace from God on hye.
Doth nourilh vertue and true charity.
Remember well what words Cordelia fpake,
What time you afkt her, how fhe lou’d your grace.
She fayd, her loue vnto you was as much.
As ought a child to beare vnto her father.
Leir. But (lie did find, rnyloue was not to her.
As fhould a father beare vnto a child.
Per. That makes not 'her loue to be any lefTe,
If (lie do loue you as a child diould do
You haiie tryed two, try one more for my fake.
He nc’re intreat you further tryall make.
Remember well the dreame you had of late,
And thinke what comfort it foretels to.vs.
AND HIS THREE DAUGHTERS^'
Leir, Come, trueft friend, that euer man poflefl,
I know thou coiinfailft all things for the befl ;
If this third daughter play a kinder part.
It comes of God, and not of my defert. - Exeunt,
Enter the Gallian ambajfador fohis.
Am, There is of late newes come vnto the court.
That old lord Leir remay nes in Cambria :
He hye me thither prefently, to impart
My letters and my melTage vnto him.
I neuer was lefTe welcome to a place
In all my life time, then I haue bin hither,
Efpecially vnto the (lately queene,
Who would not caH one gracious looke on me.
But Bill with lowring and fufpicious eyes.
Would take exceptions at each word I fpake, -
And fayne (he would haue vndermined me,
To know what my ambalTage did import.
But (he is like to hop without her hope.
And in this matter for to want her will.
Though (by report) fheele hau’t in all things elfe.
Well, I will poBe away for Cambria :
Within thefe few dayes I hope to be there, E:^it,
Enter the king and queene of Gallia, and Mumford.
Kingf By this, our father vnderBands ouj mind.
And our kind greetings fent to him of late :
. Therefore my mind prefageth ere’t be long.
We Biall receyuefrom Brittayne happy newes.
Cord. I feare, my fiBcr will dilTwade his mind ; -
' For flietome hath alwayes bin vnkind.
King. Feare not, my loue, fince that we know the worB,
The laB meanes helpes, if that we miBe the BiB :
Oo3
If
The History of King Leir
If hee’le not come to Gallia vnto vs,
Then we will fayle to Brittayue vnto him.
Mian. Weil, if I once fee Briitayne agayne,
I haue fworne, He ne’recomc home without my wench,
And He not be forfworne.
He rather neuer come home while I line.
Cor. Are you fure, Mumfordy (he is avmayd Hill ?
Mum, Nay, He not fweare (he is a mayd, but (he goes for
one :
He' take her at all aducntui es, if I can get her.
Cord. I, thats well put in.
Blum, Well put in ? nay, it was ill put in ; for had it
Bln as well put in, as ere I put in, in my dayes,
I would haue made her follow me to Fraiince,
Cor. Nay, you’d haue bin fo kind, as take her with you.
Or elfe, were I as (he,
I would haue bin fo louing, as Ide Hay behind you ;
Yet I muH confefTe, you are a very proper man.
And able to make a wench do more then (he would do.
Blum. Well, I haue a pay re of flops for the nonce.
Will hold all your mocks.
King. Nay, we fee you haue a hanfome hofe.
Cor. I, and of the newefl fliHiion,
Bliiniy More bobs, more: put them in Hill,
They’l feme inflead of bumbafl, yet put not in too many, le(f
the feames crack, and they fly out amongH you againe: you
muH not think to outface me fo eafly in my miHris quarrel, who
if I fee once agayne, ten teame of horfes (hall not draw me
away, till I haue full and whole pofleifion.
King. I, but. one tearne and a cart will feme the turne.
Cor. Not only for him, but alfo for his wench.
Muni, Well, you are two to one. He giue you ouer;
And fince I fee you fo pleafantly dKpofed,
Which indeed is but feldome fee.ne, lie clayme
A promife
I
AND HIS THREE DAUGHTERS,
A promlfe of you, which you fhall not deny me :
For promlfe is debt, and by this hand you promifd it me.
Therefore you owe it me, and you fhall pay it me,
Or He fue you vpon an acHon of vnkindnefTe. <
King. Prithy, lord Miimford, what promlfe did I make
thee ?
Mum. Fayth, nothing but this,
That the next fayre weather, which is very now.
You would go in progrefTe downe to the fea fide,
Which is very neere.
King. Fayth, in this motion I will ioyne with thee,
And be a mediator to my queene.
Prithy, my loue, let this match go forward.
My mind foretels, ’twill be a lucky voyage.
Cor. Entreaty needs not, where you may comaund.
So you be pleafde, I am right well content :
Yet, as the fea I much defire to fee ;
So am I mofi: vnwilling to be feene.
King. Weele go difguifed, all vnknowne to any.
Cor. Hovvfoeuer you make one, He make another.
Mum. And I the third : oh, I am ouer-ioyed !
See what louc is, which getteth with a word.
What all the world befides could ne’re obtayne:
But what difguifes fhall w^e haue, my lord ?
King. Fayth thus : my queene and I will be difguifde.
Like a playne country couple, and you fhall be Roger
Our man, and wayt vpon vs ; or if you will,
You fhall go firff, and we will wayt on you.
Mum. ’Twere more then time; this deuice is excellent :
Come let vs about it. Exeunt.
Enter Cambria and Ragan, with nobles.
Cam. What firange mifchance or vnexpefted hap
Hath thus depriu’d vs of our fathers prefence t
Oo 3
Can
The History of King Leir
Cnn no man tell vs what’s become of him.
With whom we did conuerfe not two dayes fince ?
My lords, let euery where light horfe be fent.
To fcoure about through all our regiment. ^
Difpatch a pofle immediately to Cor7iwal!f
To fee if any newes be of him there ;
My felfe will make a flrifl inquiry here,
And all about our cities neere at hand,
Till certayne newes of his abode be brought.
'Rag. All forrow is but counterfet to mine,
Whofe lips are almofl: fealed vp with griefe :
Mine is the fubflance, whilfl they do but feeme
To weepe the lefle, which teares cannot redeeme.
O, ne’re was heard foflrange a mifaduenture,
A thing' fo far beyond the reach of fence,
Since no mans reafon in the caufe can enter.
What hath remou’d my father thus from hence ?
O, I do feare fome charme or inuocation
Of wicked fpirits, or infernall fiends,
S til'd by CordelUy moues this innouation.
And brings my father timeleffe to his end.
But might I know, that the deteffed witc’ft
Were certayne caufe of this vneertayne ill,
My felfe to Fraimce would go in fome difguife.
And widi thefe nayles fcratch out her hatefull eyes ;
For fince I am depriued of my father,
I loath my life, and v\hh my death the rather.
Cam. The heauehs are luff, and hate impiety,
And will (no 'doubt) reueale fuch haynous crimes ;
Cenfure not any, till you know the right :
Let him beiudge, that bringeth truth to fight.
Ra. O, but my griefe, like to a fwelling tyde.
Exceeds the bounds of common patience ;
AND HIS TPIREE. DAUGHTERS.
Nor can I moderate my toung fo much.
To conceale them, whom I hold in furpe(51:.
Cam. This matter fhall be fifted : if it be flie,
A thoufand Fraiifices fhall not harbour her.
Enter the Gallian amhajjfador.
Am. Ail happineffe vnto the Cambrian king.
Cam. Welcom,..my friend, from whence is thy ambaiTage
Am. I came from Galliay vnto Coriivj'all km.
With letters to youi\ honourable father, ,
Whom there not finding, as I did expe<ff,
I was diredled hither to repayre.
Rag. Frenchman, what is thy mefiage to my father ?
Am. My letters,' madam, will import the fame.
Which my corntnilfion is for to deliuer. ^ r ‘
Ra. In his abfence you may trufl vs with your letters.
Am. I muff performe my charge in fuch a maner/
As I haue ftriff commaundement from the king.
Ra. There is good packing twixt your king and you :
You need not hither- come to afke for him.
You know where he is better then our felues.
Am'. Madam, I hope, not far off.
'Ra. Hath the young murdrefie, your outragious queene
No meanes to colour her detefled deeds,
In finifhing my guiltleffe fathers dayes,
(Becaufe he gaue her nothing to her dowre)
But by the colour of a fayn’d ambalTage,
To fend him letters hither to our court ?
Go carry them to them that fent them hither.
And bid them keepe their fcroules vnto themfelues :
They cannot blind vs with fuch flight cxcufe.
To fmother vp fo monffroiis vild abufe,
The History of King Leir
And were it not, it is ’gainft law of armes,
To offer violence to a mcffcDger,
We would infli(5l fuch torments on thy felfe.
As fhould inforce thee toreueale the truth.
Am, Madam, your threats no whit apall my mind,
I know my confcience guiltlelfe of this acf ;
My king and queene, I dare be fworne, are free
From any thought of fuch impiety:
And therefore, madam, you haue done them wrong,
And ill befeeming with a fiflers loue,
Who in meere duty tender him as much,
As euer you refpedled him for dowre.
The king your hufband will not fay as much.
Cam. I will fufpend my iudgement for a time,
Till more apparance giiie vs further light :
Yet to be playre, your comming doth inforce
A great fufpicion to our doubtfull mind.
And that j^ou do refemble, to be briefe.
Him that firH: robs, and then cries, ftop the theefe.
Am. Pray God fome neere you haue not done the like.
Rag. Hence, faucy mate, reply no more to vs ;
She Jlrikes him.
For law of armes fhall not protetH: thy toung.
Am. Ne’re was I offred fuch difeourtefy ;
God and my king, I trull, ere it be long.
Will find a meane to remedy this wrong.
Exit Amb,
Rag. How fhall I liue, to fuffer this difgrace.
At euery bafe and vulgar peafants hands ?
Jt ill behtteth my imperiall flate.
To be thus vfde, and no man take my part.
She weeps. '
Cam,
ANDf HIS Three Daughters.
Cam, What fliould I do : infringe the law of armss, ‘
Were to my euerlafting obloquy :
But I will take reuenge vpon his mafler.
Which fent him hither, to delude vs thus.
Rag. Nay, if you put vp this, be fure, ere long,
Now that my father thus is made away,
Sheele come and clayme a third part of your crowne.
As due vnto her by inheritance.
Cam. But I will proue her title to be nought
But fhame, and the reward of parricide,
And make her an example to the woiid,
For after-ages to admire her penance.
This will I do, as I am Camhriaes king.
Or lofe my life, to profecute reuenge.
Come, firfl: let’s learne what newes is of our father.
And then proceed, as befl occafion fits.
ExeunU
Enter Leir, Perillus, and t'ujo marrinerSf in fea-gownes and
fea-caps.
Per. My honefl friends, we are afham’d tofliew
The great extremity of our prefent (late.
In that at this time we are brought fo low,
That we want money for to pay our pafHige.
The truth is fo, we met with fome good fellowes,
A little before we came aboord your fliip,
Which ftript vs quite of all the coyne we had,
And left vs not a penny in our purfes :
Yet wanting mony, we will vfe the meane,
To fee you fatisfied to the vttermoft,
tooke on Leir.
% Mar.
The History of King Heir
1 Mar. Heres a good gown, ’twouid become me palTing
wel,
I fhouid be fine in it. •
- Looke on Perillus.
2 Mar. Heres a good cloke, I maruel how I fiiould look
in it.
Leir. Fayth, had we others to fupply their roome.
Though ne’re fo meane, you willingly fiiould haue them.
1 Mar. Do you heare, fir? you looke like an honeft man
He not ftand to do you a pleafure : here’s a good firog motly
gaberdine, cofi: me xiiij. good fiiillings at Billinfgate^ giue me
your gowne for it, and your cap for mine, and lie forgiue your
pafiage. . , \ /
Lcir. With al my heart, and xx. thankL
Leir and he changcfh\
2 Mar. Do you heare, fir ? you fiiall haue a better, match
the he^ becaufe you are my friend : here is a good fheeps riifiet
fea-gowne, will bide more firefie, I warrant you, then tw'o
pf his, , yes for you feem .to be an honefi gentleman; I am con-
tent to chage it for your cloke, and alke you nothing for your
pafiage more.
Pull off Perillus cloke.
Per. My owne I willingly would change with thee,
And think my felfe indebted to thy kindnelTe :
But would my friend might keepe his garment fiill.
My friend, He giue thee this new dublet, if thou wilt
Reftore his gowne vnto him back agayne.
I Mar. Nay, if I do, would I might ne’re eate powderd
beefe and mufiard more, nor drink can of good liquor whilfi: I
liue. My friend, you haue fniall reafon to feeke to hinder me
of my bargaine : but the befi is, a bargayne’s a bargayne.
Leir. Kind friend, it is much better as it is ;
Leir to Perillus.
For
- ~ AND HIS THREE DAUGHTERS. ’
For by this meanes we may efcape vnknowne, . , . .
Till time and opportunity do fit. .
2 Mar. Hark, hark, they are laying their heatls ^together,
Theile repent them of their bargayne anon^ , .
’ T were beff for vs to go while We are well.
I Mar. God be with you, fir, for your palTage back agayhe,
' He vfe you as vnreafonable as another. ,
Leir. I know thou wilt; but we hope to bring ready
money ,
With vs,’ when we come back agayne. .
Exeunt mariners.
Were euer men in this extremity,,
In a ftrange country, and deuoyd of friends,
And not a penriy for to helpe otTr Telues ? '• ^
Kind friend, what thinkfl tllpu will beconie of vs?
Per. Be of good cheere, my lord, I haue a dublet,
Vv^ill yeeld vs mony ynough to ferue our tui nes,"" ,
Vntill we come vnto your daughters court :
And then, I hope, we fhall find friends ynough.
Leir. Ah, kind Perillus, that is it I feare,
And makes me faynt, or euef I come there.
Can kindneffe fpring out of ingratitude ?
Or loue be reapt, where hatred hath bin fowne ?
Can henbane ioyne in league with Methridate ?
Or fugar grov/ in wormwoods bitter ftalke t
It cannot be, they are too oppofite :
And fo am I to any kindneffe here.
I haue throwne wormwood oh the fugred youth.
And .like to henbane poyfoned the fount,
Whence flowed the Methridate of a childs good wil.
I, like an enulous thorne, haue prickt the heart.
And turnd fweet grapes, to fowre vnrelifht floes :
. The caufelefle ire of my refpe<f};lefle breft,
path fowrd the fweet milk of dame natures paps :
My
The History of King Leir
My bitter words haue gauld her hony thoughts,
And weeds of rancour chokt the flower of grace.
Then what remainder is of any hope,
But all our fortunes will go quite aflope ?
Per, Feare not, my lord, the perfit good indeed.
Can neuer be corrupted by the bad :
A new frefli veflell flill retaynes the tafle
Of that which firfl: is powr’d into the fame :
And therfore, though you name yourfelfe the thorn.
The weed, the gall, the henbane and the wormewood ;
Yet Iheele continue in her former flate.
The hony, milke, grape, fugar, Methridate.
heir. Thou pleafing orator vnto me in wo,
Ccafe to beguile me with thy hopefull fpeaches :
O ioyne with me, and thinke of nought but croffes,
And then weele one lament anothers lofles.
Per^ Why, fay the worft, the worft can be but death;
And death is better then for to defpaire :
Then hazzard death, which may conuert to life ;
Banifli defpaire,' which brings a thoufand deathes^
heir. Orecome with thy flrong arguments, I yeeld,
To be direfted by the.e, as thou wilt :
As thou yeeldfl comfort to my crazed thoughts,
Would I could yceld the like vnto thy body.
Which is full weake, I know, and ill apayd.
For want of frefh meat and due fuflenance.
Per, Alack, my lord, my heart doth bleed, to think
That you fliould be in fuch extremity.
Le'tr, Come, let vs go, and fee what God will fend ;
When all meanes faile, he is the furefl friend.
Exeunt,
Enter
and his three Daughters.
Enter the Gallian king and queene, and Mumford, luith a
basket, difguifed like countrey folke.
King, This tedious iourney all on foot, fweet loue,
Cannot be pleafing to your tender ioynts,
Which 'ne’re were vfed tothefe toylefome walks.
Cord. I neuer in my life tooke more delight
In any iourney, then I do in this ;
It did me good, when as we hapt to light
Amongd the merry crue of country folke.
To fee what induflry and paynes they tooke,
To win them commendations *mongft their friends.
Lord, how they labour to bedir themfelues.
And in their quirks to go beyond the moone,
And fo take on them with fitch antike fits,
That one would think they were befide their wits !
Come a\A^ay, Roger, with your bafket.
Mum. Soft, dame, here comes a couple of old youthes,
I muff needs make my feife fat with iefling at them.
Enter Leir and Perillus very faintly.
Cor, Nay, prithy do not, they do feeme to be
Men much o’regone with griefe and mifery.
Let’s ftand afide, and harken what they fay.
heir. Ah, my Perillus, now I fee we both
Shall end our dayes in this vnfruitfull foyle.
Oh, I do faint for want of fuflenance:
And thou, 1 know, in little better cafe.
No gentle tree affords one tafte of fruit.
To comfort vs, vntill we meet with men :
No lucky path condu(ffs our luckleffe ffeps
Vnto a place where any comfort dwels.
Sweet
The History of King Leir
Sweet refl betyde vnto our happy foules ;
For here I fee our bodies mull haue end.
Per. Ah, my deare lord, how doth my heart lament.
To fee you brought to this extremity !
O, if you loue me, as you do profefTe,
Or euer thought well of me in my life,
' He Jirips vp his anne.
Feed on this flelh, whofe veynes are not fo dry.
But there is vertue left to comfort you.
O, feed on this, if this will do you good,
He fmile for ioy, to fee you fuck my bloud.
Leir. I am no Caniball, that I Ihould delight
To flake my hungry iawes with humane flefh :
I am no deuill, or ten times worfe then fo.
To fuck the bloud of fuch a peerelefle friend.
O, do not think that I refpccl: my life
So dearely, as I do thy loyall loue.
Ah, Brittayne^ I fliall neuer fee thee more.
That hafl vnkindly baniflied thy king :
And yet not thou dofl; make me to complayne.
But they which were more neere to me then thou.
Cor. What do I heare ? this lamentable voyce,
Me thinks, ere now I oftentlrries haue heard.
Leir^ Ah, GonorUl, was halfe my kingdomes gift
The caufe that thou didfi: feeke to haue my life ?
Ah, cruell Ragaiiy did I giue thee all.
And all could not fuffice without my bloud ?
Ah, poore Cordelluy did I giue thee nought.
Nor neuer lhall be able for to giue ?
O, let me warne all ages that infueth.
How they trull' flattery, and reieft the trueth.
Well, vnkind girles, I here forgiue you both,
^"et the iull heauens will hardly do the like ;
And
''AND HIS THREE DAUGHTERS.
And onely craue forgiueneffe at 4:he end ^
Of good Cordelldy and of thee, my friend ;
Of God, whofe maieffy I haue offended,
By my tranfgreflion many thoufand vvayes :
Of her, deare heart, whom I for no occafion
Turn’d out of all, through flatterers perfwaflon:
Of thee, kind friend, who but for me, I know,
Hadfl; neuer come vnto this place of wo.
Cor, Alack, that euer I fliould hue to fee
My noble father in this mifery.
King. Sweet loue, reueale not what thou art as yet,
Vntili we know the ground of all this ill.
Cor. O, but fome meat, fome meat : do you not fee,
How neere they are to death for want of food ?
Per. Lord, which didfl: help thy feruants at their need,
Or now or neuer fend vs helpe with fpeed.-
Oh comfort, comfort ! yonder is a banquet.
And men and women, my lord : be of good cheare;
For I fee comfort comming very neere.
O my lord, a banquet, and men and women !
Leir. O, let kind pity mollify their hearts.
That they may helpe vs in our great extreames.
Per. God faue you, friends ; and if this blefled banquet
Affordeth any food or fuflenmce,
Euen for his fake that faued vs all from death,
Vouchfafe to faue vs from the gripe of famine.
She bringeth ’fnm to the table.
Cor. Here father, fit and eat, here, fit and drink :
And would it were far better for your fakes.
V
Perillus takes Leir by the hand to the table*
Per. He glue you thanks anon ; my friend doth faynt.
And needeth prefent comfort.
Leir drinks.
Mum.
The History of King Leir
Mum. I warrant, he neVe ftayes to lay a grace :
O, thcres no fauce to a good ftomake.
Per. The ble/Ted God of heauen hath thought vpon vs.
Leir. The thanks be his, and thefe kind courteous folke.
By whofe humanity we arc preferued.
T/jcy eat hungerly, Leir drinkes.
Cor. And may that draught be vnto him, as was
That wliich old Ejon dranke^ which did renue
His withered age, and made him young againe.
And may that meat be vnto him, as was
That which Elias ate, in ftrength whereof
He walked fourty dayes, and neuer faynted.
Shall I conceals me longer from my father ?
Or fliall I manifefl my felfe to him ?
King. Forbeare a while, vntill his flrength returne.
Left being ouer-ioyed with feeing thee.
His poore weake fences (hould forfake their office.
And foour caufe of ioy be turnd to forrow.
Per. What chere, my lord ? how do you feele your felfe ?
Leir. Me thinks, I neuer ate fuch fauory meat ;
It is as pleafant as the blefted manna.
That raynd from heauen amongft the Ifraelites :
It hath recall’d my fpirits home agayne.
And made me frefh, as earft I was before.
But how ffiall wc congratulate their kindnefle ?
Per. Infayth, I know not how fufficicntly ; '
But the beft meane that I can think on, is this:
He offer them my dublet in requitall ;
For we haue nothing elfe to fpare,
Leir. Nay, ftay, Perilhis, for they ftiali haue mine.
Per. Pardon, my lord, I fweare they ftiall haue mine.
Perillus proffers his dublet : they 'will not take it.
Leir. Ah, who would think fuch kindnes ftiould remayne
Among fuch ftrange and vnacqiiainted men :
And
AND HIS THREE DAUGHTERS*
And that fuch hate (hould harbour in the breft
Of thofe, which ha'ue occafion to be befi: ?
Cor. Ah, good old father, tell to me thy griefe,
He forrow with thee, if not adde reliefe.
Leir. Ah, good young daughter, I may call thee fo %
■For thou art like a daughter I did owe.
Cor. Do you not owe her Hill ? what, is fhe dead ?
Leir, No, God forbid : but all my intereft’s gone.
By fhewing my felfe too much vnnaturall :
So haue I loft the title of a father,
And may be call’d a ftranger to her rather.
Cor. Your title’s good ftill : for tis alwayes knowne^
A man may do as him lift with his owne.
But haue you but one daughter then in all ?
Leir. Yes, I haue more by two, then would I had.
Cor. O, fay not fo, but rather fee the end
They that are bad, may haue the grace to mend :
But how haue they offended you fo much?
Leir, If from the firft I ftiould relate the caufe,
’Twould make a heart of adamant to weepe;
And thou, poore foule, kind-hearted as thou art,
Doft weepe already, ere I do begin.
Cor. For Gods loue tell it, and when you haue done :
He tell the reafon why I weepe fo foone.
Leir. Then know this firft, I am a Brittayne borne.
And had three daughters by one louing wife :
And though I fay it, of beauty they were fped ;
Efpecially the youngeft of the three.
For her perfections hardly matcht could be:
On thefel doted with a.ielous loue.
And thought to try which of them lou’d me beft.
By afking them, which would do moft for me ?
The firft and fecond flattred me with words.
And vowd they lou’d me better then their Hues :
P D
I
The History of King Leir
The youngefl fayd, fhe loued me as a child
Might do : her anfwere I cfteem’d moft vild,
Andprefently in an outragious mood,
I turnd her from me to go finke or fwym :
And all I had, euen to the very clothes, '
I gaue in dowry with the other two :
And fhe that bed: deferu’d the greateft fhare,
I gaue her nothing, but difgrace and care.
Now mark the fequell : when I had done thus,
I foiournd in my elded: daughters houfe,
Where for a time I was intreated well.
And liu'd in date fufFicing my content :
But enery day her kindnedTe did grow cold,
Which I with patience put vp weilynough.
And feemed not to fee the things I faw :
But at the laft die grew fo far incenft
With moody fury, and with cauflede hate.
That in mod; vild and contumelious termes, '
She bade me pack, and harbour fomewhere elfe.
Then was 1 fayne for refuge to repayre
Vnto my other daughter for reliefe.
Who gaue me pleading and mod courteous words ;
But in her acbions diewed her felfe fo fore,
As neuer any daughter did before *.
She prayd me in a morning out berime,
Togo to a thicket two miles from the court,
Poynting that there (he would come talke with me ;
There die had fet a fnag hayrd murdring wretch.
To madacre my honell friend and me.
Then iudge your felfe, although my tale be brie/e.
If euer man had greater caufe of gi iefe.
King. Nor neuei like impiety was done,
Since the creation of the world begun.
4 AND HIS THREE DAUGHTERS.
Leir, And now I am cohflraind to feeke reliefe
Of her, to whom I haue bin fo vnkind ;
Whofe cenfure, if it do award me death,
I muff confefTe fhe payes me but my due :
But if fhe fhew a louing daughters part.
It comes of God and her, not my defert.
Cor. No doubt fhe will, I dare be fworne file will.
Leir. How know you that, not knowing what fhe is ?
Cor* My feife a father haue a great way hence,
Vfde me as ill as'euer you did her ;
Yet, that his reuerend age I once might fee,
Ide creepe along, to meet him on my knee.
Leir. O, no mens children are vnkind but mine.
Cor. Condemne not all, becaufe of others crime :
But looke, deare father, looke, behold and fee
Thy louing daughter fpeaketh vnto thee.
She kyieeleSp
Leir. Hand thou vp, it is my part to kneele,
And afke forgiueneffe for my former faults.
He kneele
Cor. O, if you wifhl fhould inioy my breath,
Deare father rife, or I receiue my death.
He rifeth.
Leir. Then I will rife, to fatisfy your mind,
But kneele againe, til pardon be refignd.
He hieeles.
Cor. I pardon you : the word befeemes not me :
But I do fay fo, for to eafe your knee,
You gaue me life, you were the caufe that I
Am what I am, who elfe had neuer bin.
Leir. But you gaue life to me and to my friend,
Whofe dayes had elfe, had an vn timely end.
P p 2 ^ Cor^
The History of King Leir
Cor, You brought me vp, when as I was but young,
And far vnable for to helpe my felfe.
Leir. I caft thee forth, when as thou waft but young,
And far vnable for to helpe thy felfe.
Cor. God, world and nature fay L do you wrong.
That can indure to fee you kneele fo long.
King. Let mebreake off this louing controuerfy,
Which doth reioyce my very foule to fee.
Good father, rife, ftie is your louing daughter.
He rifeth.
And honours you with as rerpe<ft:lue duty.
As if you were the monarch of the world.
Cor. But I will neuer rife from oft my knee,
She kneeles.
Vntill I haue your blefting, and your pardon
Of all my faults committed any way,
From my firft birth vnto this prefent day.
Leir. The blefting, which the God of Abraham gaue
Vnto the trybe of luda^ light on thee.
And multiply thy dayes, that thou mayft fee
Thy childrens children profper after thee.
Thy faults, which are iuft none that I do know,
God pardon on high, and I forgiue below. i
She rifcth.
Cor. Now is my heart at quiet, and doth leape
Within my breft, for ioy of this good hap :
And now (deare father) welcome to our court.
And welcome (kind Perillus) vnto me,
Myrrour of vertue and true honefty.
Leir. O, he hath bin the kindeft friend to me.
That euer man, had in aduerfity.
Per. My toung doth faile, to fay what heart doth think,
I am fo rauiftit with exceeding ioy.
King.
t
AND HIS THREE DAUGHTERS.
King. All you haue fpoke : now let me fpeak my mind.
And in few words much matter here conclude ;
' . He bieeUs,
If ere my heart do harbour any ioy.
Or true content repofe within my brefl.
Till I haue rooted but this viperous fe<Sl:,
And repolTefl: my father of his crowne.
Let me be counted for the periurdft man,
That euer fpake word fince the world began. Rife,
Mum. Let me pray to, that neuer pray’d before ;
Mumford kneeks.
If ere I refalute the Brittifi earth,
(As (ere’t be long) I do prefume I lhall)
And do returne from thence without my wench,
Let me be gelded for my recompence. Rife,
King. Come, let’s to armes for to redrefTe this wrong :
Till I am there, me thinks the time feemes long. Exeunt,
Enter Ragan fola.
Rag. I feele a hell of confcience in my brefl,
Tormenting me with horrour for my facl,.
And makes me in an agony of doubt.
For feare the world fnould find my dealing out.
The flaue whom I appoynted for the afl,
I ne’re fet eye vpon the peafant fince :
O, could I get him for to make him fure,
My doubts would ceafe, and I fliould reft fecure.
But if the old men, with perfwafiue words,
Haue fau’d their Hues, and made him to relent ;
Then are they fled vnto the court of Fraimce,
And like a trumpet manifefl: my fhame.
A fhame on thefe white-liuerd flaues, fay I,
’That with fayre words fo foone are ouercome,
PP 3
O God,
The History of King Leir
0 God, that 1 had bin but, made a man ;
Or that my ftrenglH wereequall with my will !
Thcfc fooliQi men are nothing but mcere pity,
And melt as butter doth againA the fun. ,
V/hy fliould they haue preeminence ouer vs.
Since we are creatures of more braue refolue ?
1 fweare, I am quite out of charity
With all the heartlcfle men in Chrijiendome.
A poxe vpon them, when they are affrayd
To giue a Aab, or flit a paltry wind-pipe.
Which are fo eafy matters to be done.
Well, had 1 thought the flaue would feruc me fo,
My felfe would haue bin executioner :
Tis now vndone, and if that it.be knowne,
He make as good fhift as I can for one.
He that repines at me, how ere it flands,
’Twere befl for him to keepe him from my hands. Exii,
Setmd drums and trumpets : Enter the Gallian kiiigy Leir,
Mumford and the army,
King. Thus haue we brought our army to the fea.
Whereas our flilps are ready to receyue vs : .
The wind flands fayre, and we in foure houres fayle.
May eafily arriue on Britti/J: (bore.
Where vnexpcclcd we may them fiirprife.
And gayne a glorious victory with eafe.
Wheiefore, my louing countreymen, refolue.
Since truth and iuifice fighteth on our iides,
That we fhail march with conquefl > .'jere we go.
My felfe will be as forward as the firfl.
And flep by ftep march with the hardiefl wight :
And not the meaneft fouldier in our campe
\
Shall
AND HIS THREE DAUGHTERS-
Shall be be ia danger, but He fecond him.
To you, my lord, we glue the whole, commaund
Of all the army, next vnto our felfe.
Not doubting of you, but you will extend
Your wonted valour in this needfull cafe.
Encouraging the reft to do the like,
By your approued magnanimity.
Mum. My liege, tis needleffe to fpur a willing horfe,
Thats apt enough to run himfelfe to death :
For here I fweare by that fweet faints bright eye.
Which are the Harres, which guide me to good hap,
Eyther to fee my old lord crown’d anew.
Or in his caufe to bid the world adieu. ^
Leir. Thanks, good lord Mumford, tis more of your good
will.
Then any merit or defert In me.
Mum. And now to you, my worthy countrymen,.
Ye valiant race of Cciioiiejian GaivleSy
Surnamed Rcd-fianks, for your chyualr}^ f
Becaufe you fight vp to the (hanks in blond ;
Shew your felues now to be right Cawles indeed.
And be fo bitter on your enemies.
That they may fay, you are as bitter as gall.
Gall them, braue fliot, with your artillery :
Gall them, braue halberts, with your fliarp point billes,
Each in their poynted place, not one, but all.
Fight for the credit of your felues and Gawlc.
King. Then what fhoiild more perfwafion need to thcfe,
That rather wifh to deale, then heare of biowes ?
Let’s- to our fhips, and if that God permit,
In foure houres fayle, I hope we (hall be there.
Mum. And in hue houres more, I make no doubt,
Bat we (hall bring our wifli’d defires about. Exeunt.
P p 4 ' Enter
The History of King Leir
Enter a Captayne of the Watch, and two Watchmen.
Cap. My honefl friends, it is your turne to night.
To watch in this place, neere about the beacon.
And vigilantly haue regard,
If any fleet of Ihips paffe hitherward :
Which if you do, your office is to fire
The beacon prefenily, and raife the towne. Exit.
I Wat. I, I, I, feare nothing-, we know our charge, I war-
rant : I haup bin a watchman about this beacon this xxx. yere,
and yet I ne’re fee it flir, but flood as quietly as might be.
2. Wat. Fayth neighbour, and you’l follow my vice, inllead
pf watching the beacon, wee’l go to goodman Gennings, and
watch a pot of ale and a rafher of bacon : and if we do no^
drink ourfelues drunke, then fd ; I warrant, the beacon will
fee vs when.we come out agayne.
T . W. I, but how if fome body excufe vs to the captayne ?
2. W. Tis no matter, He proue by good reafoh that we
watch the beacon ; alfe for example.
1. W.l hope you do not call me affe by craft, neighbour.
2. W. No, no, but for example : fay here Hands the pot of
ale, thais the beacon.
1. W. I, I, tis a very good beacon.
2. W. Well, fay here Hands yournofe, thats the fire.
1. W Indeed I muH confefle, tis sfomewhat red.
2. W, I fee come marching in a difh, halfe a fcore pieces of
fait bacon.
1. PF. I vnderHand your meaning, thats as much to fay,
half a fcore fhips.
2. True, you con Her right; prefently, like a faithful!
>vatchman, I HreThe beacon, and call vp the towne.
I. W. I, thats as much as to fay, you fet your nofe to the
pot, and drink vp the drink.
2. W.
AND HIS THREE DAUGHTERS." ^
2. W, You are iu the right ; come, let’s go fire the bea-
con. Exeunt^
Enter the king of Gallia with a Jlil march, Mumford and foU
diers.
King. Now march our enfignes on the Brittijh earth,
And we are neere approching to the towne :
Then looke about you, valiant countrymen.
And we fhall finifii this exployt with eafe.
Th’ inhabitants of this miflruflfull place.
Are dead afleep, as men that are fecure :
Here fiiall we Iklrmifli but with naked men,
Deuoyd of fence, new waked from a dreame.
That know not what our comming doth pretend.
Till they do fcele our meaning on their fkinnes :
Therefore afFaile : God and our right for vs." Exeunt.
Alarm, with men and women halfe naked: Enter two Captaynes
without duhlets, with /words.
1 Cap. Where are thefe villaines that were fet to watch.
And fire the beacon, if occafion feru’d.
That thus haue fuffred vs to be furprifde, »
And neuer gluen notice to the towne ?
We are betrayd, and quite deuoyd of hope,
By any meanes to fortify our felucs.
2 Cap. Tis ten to one the peafants are o’recome with drinke
and fleep, and fo negleft their charge.
1. Cap. A whirhwind carry them quick to a whirl-poole.
That there the flaues may drinke their bellies full.
2. Cap. This tis, to haue the beacon fo neere the ale-houfe.
Enter the Watchmen drunke, with each a pot.
I . Cap. Out on ye, villaynes, whither run you now ?
|. Wat. To fire the towne, and call vp the beacon.
2. Wat.
The History of King Leir
2 . If at. No, no, fir, to fire the beacon.
He drinkes,
2. Cap, What, with a pot of ale, you drunken rogues ?
I. Cap, You’l fire the beacon, when the towne is lofi: ;
He teach' you how to tend your office better.
Draw to ftab them.
Enter Mumford, Captaynes run away.
Mum, Yeeld, yeeld, yeeld.
He kicks downe their pots,
I . Wat. Reele ? no, we do not reele :
You may lacke a pot of ale ere you dye.
Mum. But in meane fpace, I anfwer, you want none.
Wei, theres no dealing with you, y’are tall men, and wel
weap5d,
I would there were no worfe then you in the towne. .
Exit,
2 Ifat, A fpeaks like an honefi man, my cholers pafi al-
ready.
. Come, neighbour, let’s go.
I Wat, Nay, firll let’s fee and we can fiand. Exeunt,
Alarum, excurfionSi Mumford after them, and feme halfc naked.
Enter the Gallian king, Leir, Mumford, Cordelia, Perillus,
and fouldiers, with the chiefs of the towne bound.
King, Feare not, my friends, you fiiall receyueno hurt.
If you’l fubferibe vnto your lawfull king.
And quite reuoke your fealty from Cambria,
And from afpiring Cornwall too, whofe wiues
Haue praflifde treafon ’gainfl: their fathers life. ‘
Wee come in iuftice of your wronged king, ,
And do intend no.harme at all to you,
So you fubmit vnto your lav/fuU king. '
and his three Daughters. ^
Leir. Kind countrymen, it grieues me, that perforce,
I am conftraind to vfe extremities.
Noble» Long ha«e you here bin lookt for, good my lord.
And wilh’d for by a generall confent :
And had we known your highneffe had arriued.
We had not made refidance to your grace :
And now, my gracious lord, you need not doubt.
But all the country will yeeld prefently,
Which fince your abfence haue bin greatly tax’d.
For to maintayne their ouerfwelling pride.
Weele prefently fend word to all our friends ;
When they haue notice, they will come apace.
Leir* Thanks, louing fubie<5ls ; and thanks, worthy fon.
Thanks, -my kind daughter, thanks to you, my lord,
Who willingly aduentured haue your blood,
(Without defert) to do me fo much good.
Mum. O, fay not fo :
I haue bin much beholding to your grace :
I muft confelTe, I haue bin in fome rxirmiflies.
But I was neuer in the like to this :
For where I was wont to meet with armed men,
i was now incountred with naked women.
Ccrd. We that are feeble, and want vfe of arrnes.
Will pray to God, to flieeld you from all harmes.
Leir. The while your hands ‘do manage ceafelelTe coylc.
Our hearts fhall pray, the foes may haue the foyle.
Per. Weele fall and pray, whilfl you for vs do %ht.
That viffory may profecute the right.
King. Me thinks, your words d© amplify (my friends)
And adde frelh vigor to my willing limmes ;
Drum.
But'harke, f heare the aduerfe drum approach.
God £tnd our right, faint Denis, and faint George.
Enter
The Hjstorv of King Leir
Enter Cornwall, Cambria, Gonorill, Ragan, and the army.
Corn. Prefumptuous king of Gawles, how dareA thou
Prefume to enter on our BrittlJlj fliore ?
And more then that, to take our townes perforce.
And draw our fubiecRs hearts from their true king ?
Be fure to buy it at as deare a price.
As ere you bought prefumption in your hues.
King. Ore- daring ^erwu'a//, know, we came in right.
And iuA reuengement of the wronged king,
Whofe daughters there, fell vipers as they are,
Haue fought to murder and depriue of life :
But God protected him from all their fpight.
And we are come in iuAice of his right.
Cam. Nor he nor thou haue any intereA here,
But what you win and purchafe with the fword.
Thy flaunders to our noble vertuous queenes,
Wee’l in the battell thruA them down thy throte,
Except for feare of our reuenging hands.
Thou flye to fea, as not fecure on lands.
Mum. Weljhman, He fo ferrit you ere night for that word.
That you Aiall haue no mind to crake fo wel this tweluemonth.
Con. They lye, that fay, we fought our fathers death.
Rag. Tis meerely forged for a colours fake,
To fet a gloffe on your inuafion.
Me thinks, an old man ready for to dye.
Should be afham’d to broache fo foule a Ij^e.
Cord. Fy, Aiamelefle fiAer, fo dcuoyd of grace.
To call our father Iyer to his face.
Con. Peace (puritan) diAembling hypocrite.
Which art fo good, that thou wilt proue Aark naught :
Anon, when as I haue you in my fingers.
He make you wifh your felfe in purgatory.
Per^
AND HIS THREE DAUGHTERS.
Per. Nay, peace thou monger, fhame vnto thy fexe :
Thou fiend in likenefle of a humane creature.
< Pag. I neuer heard a fouler fpoken man.
Leir. Out on thee, viper, fcum, filthy parricide.
More odious to my light then is a toade.
Knowefl thou thefe letters ?
She fnatches them and teares them.
Rag. Think you to outface me with your paltry fcrovvles ?
You come to driue my hufband from his right,
Vnder the colour of a forged letter.
Leir. Whoeuer heard the like impiety.
Per. You are our debtour of more patience :
We were more patient when we flayd for you.
Within the thicket two long houres and more.
Rag. What houres ? what thicket ?
Per. There, where you fent your feruant with your letters,
Seald with your hand, to fend vs both to heauen.
Where, as I thinke, you neuer meane to come.
Rag. Alas, you are.growne a child agayne with age.
Or elfe your fences dote for want of fleepe.
Per. Indeed you made vs rife betimes, you know.
Yet had a care we lliould fleepe where you bade vs flay.
But neuer wake more till the latter day.
Con. Peace, peace, old fellow, thou art fleepy flill.
Mum. Fayth, and if you reafon till to morrow.
You get no other anfwere at their hands.
Tis pitty two fuch good faces
Should haue fo little grace betweene them.
Well, let vs fee^if their huibands with their hands,
Can do as much as they do with their toungs.
Cam. I, with their fwords they’l make your toung vnfay
What they haue fayd, or elfe they’l cut them out.
King. Too’t, gallants, too’f, let’s not fland- brawling thus,
Exeunt both armyes.
Sound
Thb History of King Leir
Soufid Alarum : exatrfions, Mumford muft chafe Cambria
away : then ceafe. Enter Cornwall.
« /
Corn, The day is loil, our friends do allreuolt.
And ioyne againfl vs with the aduerfe part :
There is no meanes of fafety but by flight.
And therefore He to Cornwall with my queene. Exit.
. Enter Cambria.
Cam. I thiake, there is a deuill in the campe hath haunted
me to day : he hath fo tyred me, that in a maner I can fight
no more.
Enter Mumford..
' ' \
• Zounds, here he comes, He take me to my horfe. Exit.
hlumford followes him to the dore, and returnes.
Mum. Farewell {Weljlmian) giue tliee but thy due.
Thou hafl a light and nimble payre of legs : ,
Thou art more in debt to them then to thy hands :
But if I meet thee once agayne to day,
He cut them off, and fet them to a better heart. Exit,
Alarums and excurfions^ then found vi^ory. Enter Leir,
Perillus, King, Cordelia, and Mumford.
King. Thanks be to God, your foes are ouercomc.
And you againe poflefled of your right.
Leir. Firfl to the heauens, next, thanks to you, my fonne,
By whofe good meanes I repoirefle the fame :
Which if it pleafe you to accept yourfelfe,
With all my heart I will refigne to you :
' For it is yours by right, and none of mine.
Firfl, haue you raifd, at your owne charge, a power
Of
AND HIS THREE DAUGHTERS.
/
Of valiant fouldiers ; (this conies all from you)
Next haue you ventured your owne perfons fcathe.
And laftly, (worthy Gallia neuer flaynd)
My kingly title I by thee haue gaynd.
King. Thank heauens, not me, my zeale to you is fuch,
Commaund my vtmofl, I will neuer'grutch.
Cor. He that with all kind loue intreats his queenc.
Will not be to her father vnkind feene. - • , .
Leir. Ah, my Cordelia^ now I call to mind,
The modeft anfwere, which I tooke vnkind :
But now I fee, I am no whit beguild.
Thou louedft me dearely, and as ought a child.
And thou {Perillus) partner once in woe, ‘
Thee to requite, the beft I can, He doe :
Yet all I can, I, were it ne’re fo much.
Were not fufficient, thy true loue is fuch.
Thanks (worthy Mumford) to thee lafl of all.
Not greeted laft, ’caufe thy defert was fmall ;
No, thou haft lion-like layd on to day.
Chafing the Cornwall king and Cambria-,
Who with my daughters, daughters did I fay ?
To faue their hues, the fugitiues did play.
Come, fonne and daughter, who bid me aduauncc,
Repofe with me a while, and then for Fraunce.
Sound drummes and trumpets. Exeunt.
E N P OF VOL. IV.
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